MEADOWSWEET 

Baroness  Orczy 


MEADOWSWEET 


BARONESS  ORCZY 


MEADOWSWEET 


BY 

BARONESS  ORCZY 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  SCARLET  PIMPERNEL."  "THE  NOBLE  ROGUE," 
"  PETTICOAT  RULE  " 


HODDER  &  STOUGHTON 

NEW  YORK 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


Copyright,  1912, 
By  George  H.  Doran  Company 


Stack 
Annex 

PP- 

CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I    A  Curious  Old  Bird 9 

II    A  Kind  Old  Soul 22 

III  A  Provoking  Young  Wife 33 

IV  A  Meddlesome  Old  Busybody 42 

V    A  Capricious  Tyrant 51 

VI    A  Wild  Figure  of  a  Girl 64 

VII    A  Little  Fury  of  Wrath 78 

VIII    A  Society  Lady 90 

IX    An  Exquisite  Apparition 99 

X    A  Full-Blown  Young  Woman 106 

XI    A  Much- Wronged  Woman 115 

XII    A  Jealous  Man 124 

XIII  A  Fair  Temptress 130 

XIV  A  Thief  in  the  Night I39 

XV    A  Beloved  Sister 148 

XVI  An  Impertinent  Young  Man  .......  iS7 

XVII    A  Man  in  Love 172 

XVIII    A  Woman  in  a  Rage 181 

XIX  An  Unseemly  Incident     ........  191 

XX    A  Fairy  Tale 196 

XXI    A  Lie '    .     .     .     ....  207 

XXII    A  Broken  Heart 216 

XXIII  A  Stormy  Petrel 227 

XXIV  A  Hopeless  Outlook 232 

XXV    A  Sentimental  Conversation 238 

XXVI    A  Bunch  of  Roses 244 

XXVII    A  Little  Plan 253 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXVIII    An  Agreeable  Surprise 261 

XXIX    An  Awkward  Situation 269 

XXX    An  Honest  Man 278 

XXXI    A  Little  Fool 287 

XXXII    A  Stroke  of  Diplomacy 299 

XXXIII  A  Sublime  Conclusion 305 

XXXIV  A  Simple  Way 312 


MEADOWSWEET 


MEADOWSWEET 

CHAPTER  I 

A  CURIOUS  OLD  BIRD 

You  cannot  imagine  what  a  tangle  and  muddle 
reigned  in  Uncle  Jasper's  museum!  If  you  were  not 
one  of  the  privileged  few,  allowed  to  gaze  wide-eyed 
on  the  countless  treasures  which  positively  littered 
every  corner  of  the  room  —  well,  then,  it  would  be  no 
use  to  close  your  eyes  and  think  what  it  must  have 
looked  like,  because  your  wildest  imaginings  would 
fall  far  short  of  the  reality. 

I  went  into  it  once  when  I  was  a  tiny  mite,  and  Uncle 
Jasper  was  then  very,  very  old;  but  the  picture  of 
that  room  as  I  saw  it  then  impressed  me  more  vividly 
than  anything  I  have  ever  seen  since  then. 

The  room,  you  must  know,  was  long  and  low,  with 
a  raftered  ceiling,  every  beam  of  which  was  black  with 
age  and  carved  by  hand.  There  were  no  two  beams 
alike,  for  one  had  a  garland  of  oak  leaves  festooned 
along  it,  another  was  decorated  with  trails  of  brier- 
rose,  another  with  bunches  of  holly  berries  tied  to- 
gether with  true-love  knots,  and  so  on,  all  most  beauti- 
fully hand-carved  and  dating  back  to  the  time  of 
Henry  VH.  Then  on  one  side  of  the  room  there  was 
a  huge,  deep,  mullioned  window  with  tiny  panes  of 

9 


10  MEADOWSWEET 

greenish  glass,  through  which  you  couldn't  possibly 
see,  all  held  together  by  lines  of  lead.  The  embrasure 
of  the  window  was  panelled  with  oak,  quite  as  black 
as  the  beams  of  the  ceiling,  and  these  panels,  too,  were 
beautifully  carved,  in  lovely  patterns  that  represented 
folded  linen,  with  every  fold  different,  as  you  may 
imagine,  for  there  was  nothing  conventional  in  any 
single  portion  or  ornament  of  Uncle  Jasper's  museum. 

Even  the  doors  looked  askew;  though,  of  course, 
they  were  made  of  stout  oak,  and  never  creaked  when 
you  opened  them.  But  their  lines  seemed  to  defy 
regularity  and  positively  to  sneer  at  plumb-lines. 

There  were  two  doors  to  the  room,  one  which  gave 
on  the  rest  of  the  house  —  about  which  I  must  tell  you 
later  —  and  the  other  which  was  near  the  embrasured 
window  and  gave  on  a  little  stone  porch. 

Now,  the  best  way  to  appreciate  the  view  of  Uncle 
Jasper's  museum  was  not  to  enter  it  from  the  house, 
but  rather  from  this  same  little  stone  porch  which 
faced  a  square  yard  at  the  back  of  the  house  —  a  yard 
that  might  once  have  been  a  miniature  farmyard,  for  it 
had  barns  all  around  it  —  great,  big  barns  made  coal 
black  with  tar  and  covered  with  heather  thatch,  on 
the  top  of  which  pigeons  were  always  sitting,  and 
beneath  which  I  strongly  suspect  owls  of  holding  their 
midnight  palavers. 

They  were  wonderful  barns  these,  and  put  to  many 
uses.  One  was  fitted  up  roughly  with  boxes  to  accom- 
modate two  or  three  horses,  if  visitors  came  a-riding ; 
another  was  used  as  a  cowshed ;  a  third  held  the  small 
waggonette,  wherein  Uncle  Jasper  occasionally  drove 
to  Canterbury,  eleven  miles  away;  and  a  fourth  held 


A  CURIOUS  OLD  BIRD  ii 

just  all  the  rubbish  and  all  the  lumber  that  you  could 
possibly  think  of  —  bits  of  iron  gate  and  all  the  old 
hayrakes  and  the  chicken  coops  that  weren't  wanted, 
and  the  pea-sticks  that  were  worth  keeping,  and  pussy's 
latest  family  that  had  escaped  the  scullery  bucket,  and 
the  herd  of  mice  and  rats  that  had  evaded  the  vigi- 
lance of  the  cat,  of  the  owls,  and  of  the  terrier. 

And  then,  of  course,  there  was  the  barn  which 
belonged  exclusively  to  the  chickens,  even  though  the 
chickens  did  not  belong  exclusively  to  it ;  for  they  were 
everywhere,  and  made  their  homes  in  every  barn  round 
the  yard,  and  scratched  up  the  flooring  and  the  brick 
foundations,  and  roosted  in  the  waggonette,  and  gener- 
ally did  as  much  mischief  as  a  colony  of  self-respecting 
chickens  can  very  well  do. 

Finally,  there  was  the  barn  which  adjoined  the 
museum,  and  which  held  all  the  superfluous  rubbish 
and  lumber  which  no  longer  could  find  a  place  inside 
the  house.  This  barn  —  it  was  really  a  loft  —  had 
no  entrance  from  the  yard,  and  it  was  raised  some 
seven  or  eight  feet  from  the  ground  on  brick  pillars. 
Its  only  ingress  gave  on  the  museum  itself,  and  when 
you  stood  in  that  room  looking  towards  the  window 
and  the  yard,  the  door  into  this  loft  would  be  in  the 
end  wall  on  your  right  at  some  height  from  the  floor, 
and  a  short  flight  of  wooden  stairs  led  up  to  it. 

But,  of  course,  you  don't  want  to  hear  just  now 
about  the  yard,  or  the  barn,  or  the  chickens;  your 
concern,  like  mine,  is  of  Uncle  Jasper's  museum,  of 
which  I  desire  to  tell  you. 

Well,  suppose  that  you  —  instead  of  knocking  at  the 
front  door  of  Old  Manor  Farm,  which,  perhaps,  would 


12  MEADOWSWEET 

have  been  more  polite,  even  if  more  bold  —  had  skirted 
the  house,  and  were  now  standing  in  the  yard,  with  the 
barns  to  your  right  and  left  and  also  behind  you,  you 
would  be  facing  that  same  little  stone  porch  of  which  I 
have  already  told  you,  and  no  doubt  you  would  be 
wondering  how  the  columns,  being  askew,  contrived  to 
uphold  the  quaint  architrave. 

The  stone  was  of  a  delicate  mellow  colour,  a  grey 
made  up  of  golds  and  greens,  and  in  spring  it  was 
covered  with  the  pale  mauve  of  the  wistaria  and  in  the 
summer  with  the  deep  purple  of  the  clematis,  for  these 
two  climbers  joined  tendrils  over  the  porch  and  never 
quarrelled,  the  wistaria  always  making  way  for  the 
clematis  when  the  time  came,  and  the  clematis  keeping 
small  and  unobtrusive  whilst  the  wistaria  wanted 
plenty  of  room. 

The  door  under  the  porch  gave  direct  on  the  mu- 
seum, and  if  you  entered  it  this  way  you  had  a  splendid 
view  of  the  place.  You  saw  the  tall  bookshelves  op- 
posite to  you,  with  rows  upon  rows  of  books ;  you  saw 
the  wooden  steps  leading  up  to  the  loft  on  your  left, 
and  all  round  you  saw  cases  on  the  walls  filled  with  all 
kinds  of  eggs;  you  saw  the  table  in  the  centre  of  the 
room,  with  Uncle  Jasper's  wig  upon  its  stand,  and  the 
huge  microscope,  with  its  brass  fittings  shining  like 
gold. 

Then  in  the  dark  corners  at  either  end  you  saw  the 
skeleton  of  beasts  such  as  you  had  never  seen  before, 
and  antlers  and  horns  of  every  shape  and  size.  I 
could  not,  in  fact,  tell  you  what  you  did  not  see ;  there 
was  a  stuffed  alligator,  that  hung  by  a  chain  from  the 
ceiling,  and  stuffed  lizards,  that  peered  at  you  from 


A  CURIOUS  OLD  BIRD  13 

every  point;  and  I  could  not  even  begin  to  tell  you 
about  the  stuffed  birds,  for  they  were  literally  every- 
v^here  —  on  the  tops  of  the  bookcases  and  in  cases  on 
the  wall,  on  the  tables,  the  chairs,  and  the  sofas. 
There  were  little  birds  and  big  birds,  song  birds  and 
birds  of  prey,  British  birds  and  tropical  birds,  and 
birds  from  the  ice  regions,  white  birds,  grey  birds,  red 
birds,  and  birds  of  every  tone  and  colour. 

And,  believe  me,  that  by  far  the  most  extraordinary 
bird  in  the  whole  museum  sat  in  a  tall-backed  chair, 
covered  in  large-flowered  tapestry,  and  had  name  Jas- 
per Hemingford. 

I  suppose  it  was  this  constant  handling  of  birds  and 
being  with  birds  that  made  Uncle  Jasper  look  so  like  a 
bald-headed  stork.  For  all  day  would  he  sit,  with 
glue-pot  and  stuffing  and  I  don't  know  what  other  im- 
plements, turning  limp,  dead  birds  into  erect,  defiant- 
looking  ones,  with  staring  eyes  that  were  black  in  the 
centre  and  yellow  round  the  rims,  and  could  be  bought 
by  the  thousand  in  a  shop  in  London  city. 

Now,  to  get  those  birds  into  their  proper  position,  so 
that  the  bird  looked  straight  at  you  without  the  sus- 
picion of  a  squint,  required  a  great  deal  of  skill  and  of 
precision,  and  Uncle  Jasper  would  sit  by  the  hour  in 
his  high-backed  chair,  bone-rimmed  spectacles  on  nose, 
and  his  mouth  screwed  up  as  if  he  were  perpetually 
whistling. 

And  that  is  the  reason,  no  doubt,  why  his  face  was 
so  like  a  bird's. 

I  told  you  that  his  wig  always  stood  on  a  stand  in 
the  very  centre  of  the  big  table,  as  if  it  were  presiding 
over  the  assembly  of  glue-pots  and  balls  of  string,  of 


14  MEADOWSWEET 

metal  tools  and  boxes  of  eyes,  and  of  eggs  and  dusty 
bottles  that  surrounded  it  like  a  crowd  does  a  popular 
orator.  And  Uncle  Jasper  always  wore  a  white  cotton 
cap  with  a  tassel  to  it,  in  order  to  protect  his  bald  head 
against  the  draught.  Aunt  Caroline  always  knitted 
these  caps  for  Uncle  Jasper,  as  she  did  his  white  cot- 
ton stockings,  and  Susan  washed  them  when  they  were 
dirty. 

He  invariably  slipped  off  his  coat  the  moment  he 
entered  the  museum,  and  put  it  down  somewhere 
amongst  the  litter,  and  never  could  find  it  again  when 
he  wanted  it  later  on  to  go  to  dinner  in.  But  his 
flowered  dressing-gown  was  always  laid  ready  for  him 
on  the  back  of  his  chair,  so  he  found  that  easily 
enough,  and  put  it  on  before  settling  down  to  work, 
and  he  would  always  forget  to  tie  the  cord  and  tassels 
round  his  waist,  and  they  would  trail  after  him  when 
he  moved  about  in  the  room,  and  Aunt  Caroline's  pet 
cat  —  if  she  happened  to  be  in  the  museum  —  would 
pretend  that  one  of  the  tassels  was  a  mouse,  and  she 
would  stalk  it,  and  pounce  upon  it  just  when  Uncle  Jas- 
per was  about  to  mount  his  rickety  library  steps,  and 
cause  him  to  trip,  and  to  break  one  of  the  panes  of 
glass  of  his  bookshelves,  trying  to  save  himself  from 
falling. 

But  Uncle  Jasper  never  swore  when  this  happened. 
He  only  quoted  Latin  at  the  cat,  and,  as  she  didn't 
understand  Latin,  she  went  on  in  just  the  same  per- 
verse way  as  before. 

Now  Susan,  the  country  wench,  whom  Aunt  Caro- 
line dignified  by  the  name  of  "  maid,"  did  not  know 
Latin  any  better  than  the  cat,  and  I  am  quite  sure  that 


A  CURIOUS  OLD  BIRD  15 

in  her  own  mind  she  thought  that  her  master  swore 
more  often  and  more  vigorously  than  was  consistent 
with  Christian  piety. 

On  this  same  afternoon  —  the  events  of  which 
crowded  in  so  remarkably  that  that  memorable  day 
became  the  turning  point  in  the  career  of  several  mem- 
bers of  the  Hemingford  family  —  on  this  same  after- 
noon, I  say,  which  was  on  the  2nd  of  June,  in  the  year 
1835,  Susan  was  sent  to  the  museum  by  Mrs.  Heming- 
ford in  order  that  she  should  tell  the  master  that  tea 
was  served. 

Susan,  whose  cap  was  always  awry,  and  whose  feet 
and  hands  appeared  to  have  been  made  for  somebody 
else,  and  clapped  on  to  her  arms  and  shins  by  mistake, 
invariably  became  very  nervous  and  excited  when  she 
had  to  face  the  stufifed  birds  and  beasts  of  the  museum. 

"  For  all  the  world  like  the  internals,"  she  would 
explain  to  her  follower,  Thomas  Scrutch,  the  tea  gro- 
cer's son  from  Birchington. 

And  this  nervous  excitement  caused  her  to  be  still 
more  clumsy  than  she  usually  was,  her  arms  becoming 
like  the  wings  of  a  windmill,  her  hands  like  flappers, 
and  her  feet  like  fire  shovels,  whilst  her  eyes,  staring 
out  of  her  round,  red  face,  were  very  like  those  that 
lay  in  boxes  on  the  centre  table,  and  could  be  bought 
by  the  thousand  in  a  shop  in  London  city. 

She  did  her  best  at  first  to  attract  Uncle  Jasper's 
attention  from  the  doorway.  Of  course,  he  had  not 
heard  her  knock,  nor  was  he  conscious  of  her  blue 
print  dress  and  her  cap,  all  awry,  with  its  double  row 
of  starched  frills. 

He  had  got  some  ^wful-looking,  grey,  stark  thing  in 


i6  MEADOWSWEET 

his  hands,  and  his  bone-rimmed  spectacles  were  mid- 
way down  his  nose,  and  he  was  staring  through  them 
at  the  nasty-looking  thing  which  he  held,  and  mutter- 
ing to  himself  all  the  while. 

"  He  give  me  the  jumps !  "  commented  Susan  in- 
audibly. 

"  Undoubtedly  —  undoubtedly,"  murmured  Uncle 
Jasper,  who  was  chuckling  with  delight,  "  a  very  fine 
specimen  indeed  of  the  Vespertilio  ferrum  equinum, 
or  horseshoe  bat." 

"  No  wonder  he  be  swearing  at  the  horrible  thing," 
thought  Susan,  whose  nervousness  was  gaining  more 
and  more  upon  her.  She  was  balancing  herself  first 
on  one  huge  foot,  then  on  the  other,  and  saying  in  an 
awed  whisper  at  intervals : 

"  An  it  please  you,  sir." 

But,  of  course.  Uncle  Jasper  took  no  notice  of  her. 
He  just  was  delighted  with  the  ugly,  grey  thing,  and 
he  cocked  his  head  to  one  side  and  patted  the  thing 
with  his  long,  bony  fingers  all  the  time. 

"  Length  from  the  nose  to  the  tip  of  the  tail,"  he 
said  meditatively,  "  three  and  a  half  inches  to  three 
and  nine-sixteenths  at  the  most." 

An  it  please  you,  sir,"  murmured  poor  Susan. 
Undoubtedly  —  undoubtedly !  " —  and  a  deep  sigh 
of  satisfaction  came  through  the  screwed-up  lips  of 
Uncle  Jasper ;  "  or,  as  one  might  more  appropriately 
say,  non  est  disputan  .  .  ." 

Now,  wasn't  it  a  pity  that  an  elfin  chance  chose  that 
very  second  in  which  to  make  poor,  nervous  Susan 
lose  her  equilibrium?  She  had  danced  about  from  one 
foot  to  another  for  some  time,  and  during  the  process 


A  CURIOUS  OLD  BIRD  17 

her  cap  had  sHpped  down  over  her  left  ear,  the  perspira- 
tion had  fallen  from  her  forehead  to  the  tip  of  her  nose, 
where  it  formed  one  ever-increasing  drop,  and  she  was 
shedding  hairpins  like  a  porcupine  sheds  his  quills. 
Otherwise  she  had  done  no  mischief. 

But  now  when  Latin  once  more  fell  from  her  mas- 
ter's lips  she  lurched  forward,  with  arms  outstretched; 
her  hands,  which  certainly  had  been  made  for  some- 
body much  larger  than  herself,  clutched  at  the  nearest 
thing  to  support  her  falling  person. 

That  nearest  thing  happened  to  be  a  chair,  and  on 
the  chair  were  all  kinds  of  funny  things,  including  a 
number  of  pale  blue  eggs  and  a  box  of  eyes ;  the  chair 
slid  on  the  oak  floor,  and  Susan  slid  after  the  chair, 
until  the  chair  and  Susan  encountered  an  obstacle  and 
could  slide  no  more;  then  both  were  turned  over  to- 
gether, whilst  eggs  and  eyes  flew  with  amazing  rapid- 
ity and  in  every  possible  direction  along  the  shiny 
floor. 

All  that  had  occurred  at  the  very  moment  that  Uncle 
Jasper  said  the  beginning  of  his  last  word  of  Latin, 
and  when  the  clatter  broke  in  on  his  meditations  he 
paused  before  finishing  his  word,  for  the  sudden  noise 
had  taken  his  breath  away. 

And  when  he  recovered  both  his  breath  and  his 
Latin  it  was  to  emit  the  last  syllable  of  his  interrupted 
phrase,  and  that  was: 

".  .  .  dum!" 

Can  you  wonder  that  Susan,  who  was  sprawling  on 
the  floor  like  a  starfish,  had  only  just  strength  enough 
to  gasp  feebly: 

"  Yes,  sir  —  please,  sir !  " 


i8  MEADOWSWEET 

Then,  of  course,  Uncle  Jasper  became  aware  of  her 
presence.  He  looked  at  her  over  the  rims  of  his  spec- 
tacles, wondering,  no  doubt,  why  she  had  chosen  this 
extraordinary  method  of  entering  his  room. 

"  Lord  bless  my  soul,  Susan,"  he  murmured  in  pro- 
found astonishment,  "  what  are  you  doing  there  on 
the  floor?" 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  sir  —  please,  sir !  "  she  stammered 
as  she  picked  herself  up  and  began  to  chase  the  fallen 
eggs  and  the  rolling  eyes. 

"  Go  away,"  said  Uncle  Jasper  mildly ;  "  go  away  — 
never  mind  those  things.  Can't  you  see  that  I'm 
busy?" 

"  Yes,  sir  .  .  .  but  please,  sir !  .  .  ." 

But  already  Uncle  Jasper  had  forgotten  the  brief 
incident  which  had  distracted  him  from  the  examina- 
tion of  his  beloved  specimen.  He  readjusted  his  spec- 
tacles, and  once  more  turned  his  attention  to  the  grey, 
flabby  thing  in  his  hand. 

"  The  upright  membrane  at  the  end  of  the  nose,"  he 
murmured,  with  every  sigh  of  ecstatic  delight  visible 
in  his  glittering  eyes  and  his  twitching  mouth,  "  per- 
fect —  perfect  in  shape,  just  like  a  horseshoe." 

There  is  a  courage  that  is  born  of  despair  and  a 
boldness  that  comes  of  intense  nervousness.  Susan 
suddenly  felt  both,  for  she  had  had  orders  from  her 
mistress  not  to  return  from  her  errand  without  bring- 
ing the  master  along  with  her,  and  there  he  was  back 
again  in  the  moon  or  somewheres  paying  no  more  heed 
to  her  than  if  she  were  a  bit  of  dirt  —  and  he  never 
did  mind  dirt  much. 

So    now    she    no    longer   muttered,    she    suddenly 


A  CURIOUS  OLD  BIRD  19 

shouted  right  at  the  top  of  her  voice  —  shouted  just 
like  people  shout  when  they  are  very  frightened. 

"  The  mistress  sent  me  to  tell  you,  sir  — " 

Uncle  Jasper  heard  the  voice,  for  he  looked  at  her 
over  the  top  of  his  spectacles ;  but  he  looked  just  as  if 
he  had  never  seen  Susan  before  to-day. 

"  Lord  bless  my  soul,  Susan,"  he  said  mildly,  "  I 
didn't  know  you  were  here!  " 

"  The  mistress  says,  sir,"  said  Susan,  still  shouting, 
for  having  got  his  attention  she  didn't  want  to  lose  it 
again,  "  will  you  please  come  to  tea?  " 

"  Eh?  "  queried  Uncle  Jasper  in  his  funny,  absent- 
minded  way.     "  What  ?  " 

"  Tea,  sir,"  yelled  Susan  at  the  top  of  her  voice. 
"  It's  getting  cold,  and  Master  Crabtree  is  eating  all  the 
muffins !  " 

"  All  right,  all  right,  Susan !  "  said  Uncle  Jasper 
placidly.  "  You  waste  too  many  words,  my  girl ! 
Dictum  sapienti  sat  est.  ...  A  word  to  the  wise  is 
enough,  Susan.  And  —  what  were  you  saying  just 
now,  my  girl  ?  "  he  asked  absently. 

"  I  was  saying,  sir  — " 

Uncle  Jasper  was  staring  at  her  in  absolute  blank- 
ness,  whilst  in  his  hand  he  held  that  ugly  little  thing, 
grey  and  flabby,  with  tiny  claws  pointing  upwards  and 
limp,  pointed  wings.  Susan,  too,  stared  at  Uncle  Jas- 
per; he  sat  perfectly  still,  and  his  pale,  watery  eyes 
looked  vacantly  at  her  above  his  big  spectacles. 

"  For  all  the  world  like  one  of  his  own  mannies," 
thought  Susan,  whose  sudden  courage  had  already 
given  way.  The  creepy  feeling  which  always  came 
over  her  when  she  was  in  the  museum  mastered  her 


20  MEADOWSWEET 

now  more  strongly  than  ever.  "  I  was  that  scared," 
she  said  later  on,  "  my  poor  back  just  opened  and  shut 
when  I  saw  that  hugeous  thing  lying  in  his  hand,  for 
all  the  world  like  a  begum." 

At  the  time  she  just  threw  her  apron  over  her  face, 
and  crying: 

"  The  Lord  preserve  us ! "  she  fled  incontinently 
from  the  room. 

Uncle  Jasper  gave  a  very  deep  sigh  of  satisfaction. 
He  put  down  the  precious  specimen  with  infinite  gentle- 
ness upon  the  table,  then  he  rose  from  his  chair  and 
worked  his  way  round' the  several  pieces  of  furniture  in 
the  room  toward  the  bookshelves  against  the  wall. 
And  all  the  while  that  he  moved  he  muttered  to  himself 
in  an  absent-minded  kind  of  way: 

"  Strange  how  much  time  is  wasted  by  the  unedu- 
cated in  idle  talk.  Yet,  fugit  irreparabile  tempus  — 
time  flies  never  to  be  recalled." 

He  took  hold  of  the  rickety  little  wooden  steps  and 
moved  them  to  that  position  beside  the  bookshelves 
which  he  desired,  then  he  began  slowly  to  mount  them. 
And  all  the  while  that  he  mounted  his  eyes  travelled 
with  the  quickness  of  vast  experience  over  the  rows  of 
books  behind  the  glass  doors. 

Apparently  the  book  that  he  required  was  on  the  very 
top  of  the  bookcase,  so  Uncle  Jasper  mounted  slowly 
and  carefully  until  he  had  reached  the  top  of  the  rickety 
wooden  steps.  There  he  now  sat  down,  and,  having 
opened  one  of  the  glass  doors,  he  took  out  a  ponderous 
volume  bound  in  calf.  He  crossed  one  lean  shank  over 
the  other  so  as  to  afford  firm  support  for  the  book,  then 
he  opened  it,  and  his  bony  fingers  —  so  like  the  claws  of 


A  CURIOUS  OLD  BIRD  21 

birds  —  wandered  lovingly  over  the  yellow-stained 
pages. 

"  Now,  let  me  see !  "  he  murmured,  for  he  had  a 
habit  of  talking  to  himself  when  he  was  engrossed  in 
his  work,  "  Vespertilio  ferrum  equinum.  Vesper  — 
vesper  —  ah,  here  we  are !  " 

And  having  totally  forgotten  all  about  Susan  and 
tea  and  his  wife,  he  sat  perched  up  there,  very  like  a 
bald-headed  old  stork.  His  long,  thin  nose  was  bent 
over  his  book,  his  lean  shanks  were  encased  in  white 
cotton  stockings,  and  the  tassels  of  his  dressing-gown 
beat  an  uneven  tattoo  against  the  wood  of  the  rickety 
library  steps. 


CHAPTER  II 

A   KIND   OLD    SOUL 

One  of  the  many  fallacies  invented  by  learned  people 
with  a  view  to  confusing  the  unlearned  is  the  saying 
that  "  Nature  never  makes  a  mistake." 

Now  no  one  on  earth  makes  more  mistakes  than 
Dame  Nature  makes  up  aloft,  or  wherever  else  she 
may  dwell.  And  I  will  tell  you  one  of  the  greatest 
mistakes  that  she  ever  did  make,  and  that  was  that 
she  put  a  true  mother's  heart  inside  the  ample  chest 
of  Aunt  Caroline  and  then  wholly  omitted  —  or  forgot 
—  to  give  her  children  of  her  own  to  love,  to  cosset, 
and  to  worry  out  of  all  patience. 

Aunt  Caroline  as  a  mother  would  have  been  splendid. 
Her  children's  faces  would  have  been  a  bright  red,  and 
would  have  shone  like  apples  that  have  been  polished 
against  the  sleeve  of  a  well-worn  smock;  their  hair 
would  have  been  smooth  and  glossy,  their  hands  white 
and  adorned  with  well-trimmed  nails ;  they  would  have 
been  learned  in  the  art  of  making  every  kind  of  wine 
and  preserve  and  pickle  that  mind  of  woman  can  con- 
ceive and  stomach  of  man  can  digest,  and  totally  igno- 
rant of  everything  else  in  the  world. 

As  an  aunt.  Aunt  Caroline  was  a  failure.  For  from 
the  moment  that  her  sister's  children  were  placed  in  her 
charge  by  their  dying  mother  they  did  exactly  as  they 

22 


A  KIND  OLD  SOUL  23 

liked  at  Old  Manor  Farm,  and  twiddled  Aunt  Caroline 
right  round  their  thumbs. 

To  be  sure  Olive,  the  eldest,  had  snow-white  hands 
with  beautifully  shaped  nails  to  them;  but  she  did  not 
employ  them  in  making  cowslip  wine  and  rhubarb  pre- 
serve :  she  employed  them  chiefly  for  the  decking  up  and 
the  ornamentation  of  the  rest  of  her  lovely  person,  and 
one  of  them  she  employed  now  in  the  wearing  of  the 
golden  ring  which  Sir  Baldwin  Jeffreys  had  placed  on  it 
some  three  or  four  years  ago. 

Olive,  from  the  time  that  she  left  off  playing  with 
dolls  —  and  that  was  very  early  in  the  history  of  her 
short  life  —  had  made  up  her  mind  that  she  would  not 
wear  out  her  youth  and  her  beauty  at  the  Old  Manor 
Farm  in  the  company  of  Uncle  Jasper's  stuffed  abom- 
inations :  and  since  Aunt  Caroline  could  not  afford  to 
take  her  up  to  London,  where  she  might  have  made  a 
suitable  match,  she  looked  about  her  in  Thanet  itself, 
in  search  of  the  most  likely  gentleman  of  wealth  and 
position  who  would  prove  willing  and  eager  to  ask  her 
to  quit  the  lonely  farmhouse,  and  to  grace  London 
society  in  his  company  and  his  own  house  as  his  mis- 
tress. 

The  most  likely  gentleman  turned  out  to  be  Sir 
Baldwin  Jeffreys,  who  had  a  large  estate  near  Ash  ford 
and  a  fine  house  in  town.  He  had  come  down  to  the 
neighbourhood  of  Minster-in-Thanet  for  some  fishing 
with  his  friend,  Mr.  Culpepper,  and  Mr.  Culpepper  — 
to  while  away  a  fine  Sunday  afternoon  —  had  driven 
him  over  to  have  tea  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hemingford 
at  Old  Manor  Farm,  and  to  see  old  Jasper  Heming- 
ford's  museum,  which  was  the  pride  and  talk  of  Thanet. 


24  MEADOWSWEET 

Sir  Baldwin  Jeffreys  sat  In  the  oak-rafted  parlour  of 
Old  Manor  Farm,  and  Miss  Olive  Aldmarshe  handed 
him  a  cup  of  tea.  Sir  Baldwin  Jeffreys  was  five-and- 
forty  years  old,  but  he  looked  thirty-five,  and  on  that 
afternoon  he  felt  twenty-two. 

That  was  more  than  three  years  ago  now,  and  in  the 
meanwhile  Lady  Jeffreys  had  been  the  bright  comet  of 
two  London  seasons,  and  Old  Manor  Farm  and  its 
inhabitants  had  not  seen  her  since  the  day  when  she 
walked  out  of  it,  a  radiant  and  beautiful  bride,  on  the 
arm  of  her  middle-aged  husband,  and  entered  the  smart 
coach,  with  its  white  and  scarlet  liveries  and  heavy 
Flemish  horses,  which  were  to  convey  her  to  her  new 
home. 

And  now  she  had  arrived  quite  unexpectedly  on  this 
very  morning,  and  at  the  moment  when  Aunt  Caroline 
was  about  to  carve  Cousin  Barnaby's  third  helping  of 
lamb.  There  had  come  the  noise  of  a  distant  coach 
rattling  down  the  hill,  the  clatter  of  horses,  the  jingling 
of  harness,  the  shouts  of  the  postilions.  Aunt  Caro- 
line had  just  time  to  ejaculate :  "  I  wonder  now  who 
that  might  be !  "  and  Barnaby  Crabtree  to  grunt  in 
response :  "  Nobody  for  us,  I  hope !  "  when  the  hand- 
some coach  was  seen  to  swing  in  through  the  narrow 
gates,  and  —  with  a  great  deal  more  clatter  and  a  vast 
amount  more  jingling  —  to  come  to  a  halt  before  the 
front  door. 

"  Lord  bless  us  all,  it  must  be  Olive !  "  exclaimed 
Aunt  Caroline,  as  she  quickly  put  down  the  pair  of 
carvers  and  started  fiddling  nervously  with  the  strings 
of  her  apron. 

"  That  is  no  excuse,  Caroline,"  remarked  Barnaby 


A  KIND  OLD  SOUL  25 

Crabtree  acidly,  "  for  not  handing  me  over  a  further 
portion  of  lamb  as  I  desired." 

"  No,  Barnaby,"  said  Aunt  Caroline  meekly. 

And  it  was  because  she  was  then  obliged  to  resume 
her  work  of  carving  and  to  help  Cousin  Barnaby  with 
two  slices  of  lamb,  a  roast  potato,  a  spoonful  of  peas, 
and  a  sprinkling  of  mint  sauce,  that  she  was  not  stand- 
ing at  the  front  door  to  receive  Sir  Baldwin  and  his 
lady  when  the  latter  descended  from  her  coach. 

Indeed  it  was  Olive  who  had  arrived  so  unexpect- 
edly. She  had  come  in  her  coach,  together  with  nu- 
merous boxes,  and  Sir  Baldwin  had  ridden  beside  the 
coach  all  the  way  from  Ashford. 

Soon  Olive  was  standing  in  the  hall,  meekly  sub- 
mitting to  Aunt  Caroline's  embrace,  whilst  Uncle  Jas- 
per fussed  round  them  both  like  an  old  hen,  and  Susan 
stood  in  the  doorway  wide-eyed  and  open-mouthed, 
gaping  at  the  beautiful  lady  with  the  shot  silk  cloak  and 
the  five  huge  feathers  in  her  bonnet,  until  Aunt  Caro- 
line roused  her  from  this  state  of  semi-imbecility  by 
giving  her  arm  a  vigorous  pinch  and  ordering  her  back 
into  her  kitchen  to  put  a  couple  more  plates  in  the 
Dutch  oven. 

In  the  meanwhile  Sir  Baldwin  Jeffreys,  having 
greeted  Aunt  Caroline  and  Uncle  Jasper  with  all  the 
courtly  grace  peculiar  to  gentlemen  who  live  much  in 
London,  gave  directions  to  his  servants  and  postilions 
to  stable  his  saddle-horse  in  Mr.  Hemingford's  stables, 
but  to  return  to  Ashford  with  the  coach  forthwith, 
since  her  ladyship  would  make  a  stay  here  for  a  few 
days.  He  himself  would  return  home  that  selfsame 
evening. 


26  MEADOWSWEET 

Aunt  Caroline's  notions  of  hospitality,  however, 
would  not  allow  her  to  let  Sir  Baldwin's  servants  de- 
part without  at  least  a  good  cut  off  that  leg  of  lamb 
when  it  presently  found  its  way  into  the  kitchen.  So 
for  at  least  an  hour  after  that  coachman  and  pos- 
tilions in  white  and  scarlet  graced  the  huge  stone- 
walled kitchen  with  their  presence,  and  made  Susan's 
eyes  grow  larger  and  larger  with  the  tales  they  told 
her  of  the  magnificent  society  in  London  of  which 
their  master  and  mistress  were  the  most  feted  leaders. 

All  this  had  occurred  earlier  in  the  day,  of  course, 
for  twelve  o'clock  was  the  dinner  hour  at  Old  Manor 
Farm,  and  since  then  everyone  had  had  a  brief  hour's 
rest.  Uncle  Jasper  had  retired  to  his  museum,  where 
he  quickly  forgot  that  he  had  a  niece  and  that  she  had 
arrived  that  day.  Aunt  Caroline  had  vainly  tried  to 
keep  awake  whilst  Sir  Baldwin  Jeffreys  talked  politely 
on  agricultural  subjects ;  she  nodded  over  Jersey  cows, 
and  closed  her  eyes  over  late  lambs,  but  when  the  har- 
vest of  sainfoin  came  on  the  tapis  she  frankly  lay  back 
in  her  chair  and  began  to  snore. 

Olive  in  the  meanwhile  had  found  her  way  to  the 
room  which  she  used  to  occupy  when  she  was  a  girl. 
It  seemed  mightily  small  and  uncomfortable  after  the 
luxuries  of  her  house  in  St.  James's-street,  or  of  her 
home  near  Ashford.  Aunt  Caroline,  who  had  come 
up  with  her,  found  herself  vaguely  apologising  for 
these  discomforts,  even  though  Olive  had  occupied  that 
selfsame  room  for  fifteen  years  of  her  life. 

"  Try  and  rest  now,  Olive  dear,"  she  said,  as  she  pre- 
pared to  rejoin  Sir  Baldwin  in  the  little  front  parlour, 


A  KIND  OLD  SOUL  27 

"  the  child  will  be  home  by  the  time  you  come  down 
again." 

"  Ah,  yes ! "  said  Olive  languidly,  smothering  a 
yawn.     "  By  the  way,  where  is  the  child  ?  " 

"  On  some  bird's-nesting  expedition,"  replied  Aunt 
Caroline,  with  a  sigh ;  "  she  is  still  the  tomboy  you  used 
to  scold.  I  haven't  seen  her  since  breakfast  time,  but 
she'll  surely  be  home  to  tea." 

Two  hours  later  the  little  party  was  gathered  around 
the  tea-table.  Aunt  Caroline's  best  silver  teapot  had 
come  out  of  its  green  baize  bag  for  the  occasion  and 
resplended  above  the  china  cups  and  saucers  and  the 
plates  full  of  bread  and  butter  and  home-made  cakes. 
Olive,  languid  and  bored,  was  sipping  her  tea.  Sir 
Baldwin,  looking  black  as  thunder,  was  busy  whacking 
his  boot  with  his  riding-crop,  and  Cousin  Barnaby 
Crabtree  sat  in  the  most  comfortable  armchair,  with 
the  dish  of  muffins  close  to  his  hand,  and  his  third  cup 
of  tea  nearly  empty. 

Susan  had  been  sent  to  fetch  the  master,  but  had  not 
yet  returned. 

"  I  declare,"  said  Aunt  Caroline  as  she  put  down  the 
heavy  silver  teapot  and  rose  from  her  chair  — "  I  de- 
clare that  that  girl  is  nothing  short  of  an  imbecile.  I 
sent  her  to  fetch  your  uncle,"  she  added,  not  specially 
addressing  Olive,  but  because  she  always  referred  to 
her  husband  as  "  your  uncle  "  whoever  she  might  be 
talking  to  at  the  time  — "  I  sent  her  to  fetch  your 
uncle,  and  now  I  hear  her  moving  about  in  the  scullery, 
and  he'll  already  have  forgotten  all  about  having  been 
sent  for,  and  all  about  his  tea." 

"  Even  if  he  comes  now,"  said  Barnaby  Crabtree 


28  MEADOWSWEET 

placidly,  "the  !ea  will  have  drawn  too  much,  and 
there  are  no  more  muffins  left.  Leave  him  alone, 
Caroline,"  he  added  more  sternly;  "he'll  come  when 
he  wants  to,  and  in  the  meanwhile  cut  me  a  piece  of 
plum  cake." 

However,  Aunt  Caroline  did  not  like  the  idea  of 
Uncle  Jasper  going  without  his  tea,  so,  having  cut  the 
desired  piece  of  plum  cake,  she  begged  to  be  excused, 
and  made  her  way  straight  to  the  museum. 

There  she  found  Uncle  Jasper  sitting  at  the  top  of 
his  library  steps  deeply  absorbed  in  a  book. 

Aunt  Caroline  could  have  smacked  him,  so  angry 
did  she  feel. 

"  There  you  go  again,  Jasper,"  she  cried ;  "  there 
you  go,  up  in  the  clouds,  and  no  more  heeding  your 
own  lawful  wife  than  a  bunch  of  woody  carrots.  Jas- 
per," she  added,  seeing  that  indeed  he  took  but  scant 
notice  of  her,  "  Jasper,  I  say !  " 

And  she  rapped  with  her  bunch  of  keys  upon  the 
back  of  the  nearest  chair. 

"Eh?     What?"  asked  Uncle  Jasper  meekly. 

"  You've  scared  that  silly  minx  Susan  out  of  her 
wits,  and  now  your  tea  is  getting  cold,  and  Sir  Bald- 
win will  be  going  directly." 

"  Sir  Baldwin  ?  "  queried  Uncle  Jasper  vacantly  as 
he  stared  down  at  her  like  an  old  crow  from  its  perch. 

He  had  wholly  forgotten  who  Sir  Baldwin  might 
be,  and  vaguely  wondered  what  this  gentleman's  go- 
ing and  coming  had  to  do  with  the  Vespertilio  ferrum 
equinum,  a  specimen  of  which  —  so  rare  in  the  British 
Islands  —  was  even  now  lying  upon  his  own  table. 

"  Jasper,"  ejaculated  Aunt  Caroline,  who  you  must 


A  KIND  OLD  SOUL  29 

own  had  grave  cause  for  vexation,  "  Jasper,  you  don't 
mean  to  tell  me  that  you  had  forgotten  that  Sir  Bald- 
win Jeffreys  said  at  dinner-time  that  he  must  leave  us 
directly  after  tea !  " 

"  No,  no,  my  dear,"  replied  Uncle  Jasper  vaguely ; 
"  indeed  I  had  not  forgotten  that  circumstance,  and 
I  am  truly  sorry  that  Sir  Baldwin  is  going  so  soon." 

"  A  very  kind  word,  my  good  Hemingford,"  came 
in  pleasing  accents  from  Sir  Baldwin  Jeffreys,  who 
had  followed  in  Aunt  Caroline's  footsteps  and  was 
even  now  standing  at  the  door  of  the  museum.  "  May 
I  enter?  "  he  added  courteously. 

"  Of  course,  of  course,"  said  Aunt  Caroline.  "  Do 
enter.  Sir  Baldwin.     Jasper  was  asking  after  you." 

When  he  was  not  scowling,  as  he  had  done  ever 
since  his  arrival,  Sir  Baldwin  could  be  exceedingly 
pleasant  in  his  manner.  He  came  into  the  room  now, 
and  at  Aunt  Caroline's  invitation  sat  on  one  of  the 
chairs  that  did  not  happen  to  be  littered  with  eggs  and 
stuffed  lizards. 

"  A  very  kind  word  indeed,"  he  said,  "  and  'tis  pleas- 
ant for  the  parting  guest  when  *  so  soon '  waits  upon 
*  farewell'  " 

"Must  you  really  go  to-day.  Sir  Baldwin?"  said 
Aunt  Caroline. 

"  Alas!  madam,"  replied  Sir  Baldwin,  and  he  sighed 
with  becoming  regret,  "  urgent  business  recalls  me 
to  London  to-morrow,  and  I  must  sleep  at  Ash  ford  to- 
night." 

"  'Tis  a  short  visit  you  have  paid  us,"  she  remarked. 

"I  only  escorted  my  wife  down  from  home  —  and 
now,"  he  said,  while  with  old-fashioned  gallantry  he 


30  MEADOWSWEET 

raised  Aunt  Caroline's  mittened  hand  to  his  Hps,  "  I 
leave  her  in  the  safest  and  kindest  of  hands." 

"  With  a  membrane  at  the  end  of  the  nose." 

This  from  Uncle  Jasper,  who,  absent-minded  as 
usual,  was  reading  aloud  to  himself  out  of  his  book. 
Sir  Baldwin  looked  startled,  as  well  he  might,  seeing 
that  Uncle  Jasper  had  but  a  moment  ago  appeared  to 
be  taking  part  in  the  conversation ;  but  Aunt  Caroline 
remarked  indignantly: 

"Jasper,  how  can  you  say  such  a  thing?  I  am 
sure  Olive  always  had  a  beautiful  nose!  " 

Whereupon  Sir  Baldwin  laughed  immoderately,  and 
for  the  first  time  to-day  cast  off  the  gloom  which  had 
been  weighing  over  his  spirits. 

"  Nay !  "  Aunt  Caroline  went  on  quite  placidly,  for 
she  did  not  perceive  that  anything  funny  had  been 
said;  but  she  was  too  polite  to  resent  Sir  Baldwin's 
levity.  "  We  are  happy,  of  course,  to  have  our  Olive 
back  with  us  for  awhile.  'Tis  sorely  we  missed  her 
when  you  took  her  away  from  us." 

Then  she  sighed  with  every  appearance  of  deep  sor- 
row, though  to  be  sure  no  one  had  desired  a  marriage 
for  Olive  more  earnestly  than  had  Aunt  Caroline. 
But  the  good  soul  had  always  a  remarkable  store  of 
regrets  laid  down  somewhere  in  the  bottom  of  her 
soul,  and  whenever  occasion  demanded  she  would 
deck  out  one  of  these  regrets  and  trot  it  out  for  the 
benefit  of  the  beholder;  and  the  regret  came  out  well 
accompanied  by  sighs  and  decked  out  to  look  very 
real,  though  in  reality  it  only  existed  in  Aunt  Caro- 
line's imagination. 

Having  duly  sighed  over  Olive's  most  longed-for 


A  KIND  OLD  SOUL  31 

departure  from  Old  Manor  Farm,  she  now  produced 
yet  another  fond  regret. 

"  How  I  wish,"  she  said,  "  that  her  sister  were  more 
like  her !  " 

"  Is  the  child  as  much  a  tomboy,  then,  as  ever  ?  " 
asked  Sir  Baldwin  kindly. 

"  Worse,  my  dear  Sir  Baldwin,"  sighed  Aunt  Caro- 
line — "  worse !  Now  look  at  her  to-day.  Off  she 
goes  directly  after  breakfast  —  and  only  one  piece  of 
bacon  did  she  have,  though  I  fried  a  bit  of  the  streaky, 
of  which  she  is  very  fond.  She'd  be  hungry  — 
wouldn't  you  think  so,  now  ?  But  no !  Off  she  goes, 
Heaven  only  knows  where  —  all  alone  —  without  ask- 
ing her  aunt's  permission  or  excusing  herself  for  not 
appearing  at  dinner.  Not  in  for  tea,  either.  You  saw 
me  putting  a  muffin  down  for  her  by  the  hob.  No ! 
No  dinner,  no  tea  —  and  now  it's  nearly  four  o'clock, 
and  the  child  not  home  yet,  and  your  uncle  and  I  not 
knowing  whether  she  has  broken  her  neck  climbing 
a  tree  or  torn  her  stockings  going  through  the  scrub. 
And  it  isn't  that  I  don't  do  my  best  with  her ;  but, 
there,  she'll  never  be  like  Olive,  though  I  do  give 
her  brimstone  and  peppermint  once  a  week  for  her 
complexion !  Such  a  name,  too !  Boadicea !  What- 
ever can  her  poor  mother  have  been  thinking  about!  " 

"  An  unusual  elongation  of  the  tail,"  came  solemnly 
from  the  top  of  the  library  steps. 

And  at  this  Sir  Baldwin  was  seized  with  such  an 
uncontrollable  fit  of  laughter  that  his  eyes  were  stream- 
ing and  he  was  forced  to  hold  his  sides,  for  they 
ached  furiously.  What  made  him  laugh  more  than 
anything  was  that  Aunt  Caroline  was  apparently  under 


32  MEADOWSWEET 

the  impression  that  Uncle  Jasper  was  taking  part 
wilHngly  in  the  conversation,  and  that  his  remark  was 
a  comment  upon  what  she  had  said.  For  even  now 
when  Uncle  Jasper  made  the  funny  statement  about 
the  elongation  of  the  tail  she  retorted  quite  angrily: 

"  She  was  not,  Jasper !  I  am  sure  my  dear  sister 
never  thought  of  such  things." 

At  which  Sir  Baldwin,  fearing  that  he  would  break 
his  sides,  went  quickly  out  of  the  room. 


CHAPTER  III 

A   PROVOKING   YOUNG    WIFE 

Lady  Jeffreys  met  her  husband  in  the  square  oak- 
panelled  hall,  which  gave  directly  on  every  portion 
of  the  old  house.  She  was  coming  out  of  the  little 
parlour  on  the  left,  having  duly  finished  tea. 

"  Ah,  Sir  Baldwin,"  she  said  in  that  affected,  min- 
cing way  which  had  grown  on  her  in  the  past  two 
years,  "your  groom  has  just  been  round  from  the 
stables !  He  wanted  to  know  at  what  hour  you  wish 
to  start,  since  you  must  return  to  Ashford  to-night." 

In  a  moment  all  Sir  Baldwin's  good  humour  had 
vanished.  He  frowned,  and  his  handsome  face  wore 
an  air  of  deep  wrath  and  also  of  gloom,  and  anyone 
could  see  that  to  speak  politely  and  quietly  now  cost 
him  no  little  effort.  It  required  no  great  power  of 
observation  to  see  that  a  matrimonial  storm  was  effect- 
ually brewing  —  nay,  it  even  seemed  as  if  the  storm 
had  already  broken  out  previously,  and  that  the  halt  at 
Old  Manor  Farm  had  been  but  a  momentary  lull  be- 
tween two  vigorous  claps  of  thunder. 

Olive  stood  in  the  hall,  looking  remarkably  pert  and 
pretty.  She  was  beautifully  dressed  in  a  gown  of 
emerald-green  silk,  with  trimmings  of  black  braid  and 
quaint  buttons.  She  had  a  very  slim  waist,  and  the 
elongated  shape  of  her  bodice  and  full  gathers  in  the 
skirt  set  off  her  trim  figure  to  great  advantage. 

'33, 


34  MEADOWSWEET 

She  had  taken  off  her  bonnet,  and  her  fair  hair  now 
showed  all  round  her  head  in  a  maze  of  innumerable 
curls  and  puffs,  which  were  richly  set  off  by  a  high 
comb  of  pierced  tortoiseshell.  No  doubt  she  was  ex- 
cessively pretty,  and  so  dainty,  too,  from  the  tip  of  her 
dainty  leather  shoe  and  her  fine  white  silk  stockings 
to  the  cluster  of  curls  that  fell  each  side  of  her  small 
oval  face  from  the  temple  to  the  cheek,  and  anyone 
who  was  not  observant  would  naturally  marvel  how 
any  husband  could  scowl  on  such  a  picture. 

She  looked  very  provocative  just  now,  with  her  head 
cocked  on  one  side  like  a  pert  robin,  one  hand  on  her 
hip,  and  the  other  swinging  an  embroidered  reticule  by 
its  long  delicate  chain. 

Sir  Baldwin  looked  on  her,  and  the  scowl  darkened 
yet  more  deeply  on  his  face.  But  he  made  no  com- 
ment in  reply  to  what  she  had  said,  until  Aunt  Caro- 
line's entrance  into  the  hall  recalled  him  to  himself; 
then  he  asked  calmly : 

"  And  what  answer  did  your  ladyship  give  to  my 
groom?  " 

"  That  you  would  start  within  half  an  hour,"  she 
replied  flippantly. 

"  Nay,  Olive,"  said  Aunt  Caroline  from  under  the 
lintel  of  the  museum  door;  "  perhaps  Sir  Baldwin  may 
be  persuaded  to  tarry  with  us  until  to-morrow  at  the 
least." 

"  That  were  presumptuous  on  my  part,  Madam," 
said  Sir  Baldwin,  "  since  my  wife  seems  so  mightily 
eager  to  rid  herself  of  me." 

Olive   laughed  lightly,   but   I  must  say  that  her 


A  PROVOKING  YOUNG  WIFE  35 

laughter  sounded  a  little  forced  and  devoid  of  true 
mirth. 

"  Faith !  "  she  said,  "  with  your  temper  at  boiling 
point,  you  have  not  been  an  agreeable  companion." 

"  I  intruded  as  little  as  I  could  on  your  ladyship's 
privacy,"  he  retorted. 

.  "  I  could  have  come  dow^n  here  alone,"  she  said. 
"  The  coachman  surely  knows  the  way  between  Ash- 
ford  and  Birchington.  I  had  a  postilion  —  your  pres- 
ence was  unnecessary,  and  'twas  you  forced  your 
escort  on  me,  remember!  " 

"  My  dear  Olive !  "  exclaimed  Aunt  Caroline,  who 
was  genuinely  shocked. 

Sir  Baldwin's  face  had  become  very  pale,  but  evi- 
dently he  was  too  polite  to  allow  his  temper  to  get  the 
better  of  him  in  the  presence  of  his  hostess.  But  this 
was  not  to  say  that  he  would  permit  his  wife  to  aim 
her  unpleasant  shafts  at  him  without  meting  her  some 
measure  of  punishment. 

"  As  your  conduct  with  a  young  jackanapes  has 
lately  made  your  ladyship  the  talk  of  the  town,"  he 
said  coldly,  "  I  preferred  that  jou  should  not  travel 
alone." 

"  Lest  my  departure  be  construed  into  an  elope- 
ment," she  retorted,  with  a  show  of  spite,  "  perhaps 
with  Lieutenant  Carrington  on  board  the  Dolphin  — 
or  is  it  someone  else  just  now?  Faith,  your  insane 
jealousy  makes  you  the  talk  of  the  town!" 

"  Olive,  I  pray  you,"  interposed  Aunt  Caroline,  who 
was  becoming  alarmed  both  at  Olive's  spiteful  vehe- 
mence and  Sir  Baldwin's  unnatural  calm,  "  remember 
he  is  your  husband  !  " 


36  MEADOWSWEET 

"  Great  Heavens,  Aunt,"  cried  Olive  at  the  top  of 
her  high-pitched  voice,  "  v^rould  that  I  could  forget  it 
sometimes !  " 

"  It  would  be  an  evil  day  for  your  ladyship  if  you 
were  to  do  so !  "  said  Sir  Baldwin,  who  at  Olive's  last 
words  had  flushed  to  the  roots  of  his  hair,  and  now 
had  much  ado  to  keep  his  rage  under  control. 

He  looked  so  wrathful  just  then,  and  his  eyes  shot 
so  much  anger  upon  his  wife,  that  instinctively  the 
flippancy  of  her  manner  died  down.  Her  oval  cheeks 
became  quite  white,  and,  though  she  strove  to  laugh 
again,  it  was  obvious  that  she  stood  somewhat  in  awe 
of  her  husband's  present  mood.  But,  like  all  women 
who  find  pleasure  in  worrying  and  teasing  a  man,  she 
would  not  let  him  see  for  a  moment  that  she  was 
frightened.  Therefore  she  laughed  and  pouted  and 
shrugged  her  dainty  round  shoulders  —  did  many 
things,  in  fact,  to  hide  the  quivering  of  her  lips  and 
the  trembling  of  her  hands, 

"Oh,  ho,  ho,  ho!"  she  exclaimed  Bj  little  shrilly. 
"Faith,  but  this  is  interesting!  And  you.  Sir  Bald- 
win, grow  more  and  more  charming,  every  day! 
Violence  and  abuse  have  I  suffered  in  plenty.  It  is 
threats  this  time,  eh?" 

"I  never  threaten,"  said  Sir  Baldwin  quietly,  "as 
your  ladyship-  is  well  aware  —  save  when  I  am  pre- 
pared to  act — " 

"  The  part  of  a  coward?  "  she  interposed  quickly. 

Aunt  Caroline  threw  up  her  hands  in  horror. 
Never  in  all  her  life  had  she  heard  a  wife  thus  address- 
ing her  husband.     She  herself  had  oft  cause  to  be  firm 


A  PROVOKING  YOUNG  WIFE  37 

with  Jasper,  but  never  —  oh,  never !  —  would  she 
dream  of  being  anything  but  polite  to  him. 

"No,"  Sir  Baldwin  said  quietly;  "rather  the  part 
of  a  judge,  and  if  necessary  that  of  an — " 

"  Sir  Baldwin !  "  shrieked  Aunt  Caroline,  terrified. 

Olive,  too,  was  very  frightened  now.  No  doubt 
she  knew  her  husband  well,  and  knew  how  much  de- 
termination and  vindictiveness  lay  behind  his  calm  and 
gentleman-like  manner.  She  had  teased  him  often 
enough  before  —  teased  him  until  he  lost  all  control 
over  himself,  and  had  perforce  to  fly  out  of  her  room 
lest  his  temper  should  induce  him  to  do  her  some 
injury.  But  to-day  she  had  evidently  provoked  him 
further  than  a  mere  outburst  of  rage,  and  the  fact  that 
he  did  keep  his  rage  so  completely  under  control 
proved  to  her  that  deeper  determination  lay  in  him 
now  than  had  ever  been  there  before. 

But,  womanlike,  she  would  not  even  now  let  him  see 
that  she  was  afraid  of  him:  what  she  did  not  mind 
his  seeing  was  that  she  hated  him,  and  this  she  tried 
to  convey  to  him  by  a  look.  She  drew  up  her  grace- 
ful figure  and  tossed  her  head  defiantly,  and  you 
should  have  seen  her  eyes  then  —  narrowed  until  they 
were  mere  slits,  whilst  a  row  of  tiny  white  teeth  buried 
themselves  in  her  lower  lip. 

"I  hate  you!" 

She  did  not  say  it,  but  she  looked  it.  Every  line 
in  her  face  spoke  of  it  and  every  movement  of  her 
body  proclaimed  the  fact,  and  Sir  Baldwin  Jeffreys, 
being  no  fool,  could  read  those  lines  plainly  enough 
even  as  she  sailed  past  him  straight  up  the  stairs  on 
her  way  to  her  room. 


38  MEADOWSWEET 

Sir  Baldwin  as  soon  as  she  was  out  of  sight  seemed 
to  recover  his  normal  balance.  The  scowl  was  still 
there  on  his  face,  and  dark  thoughts  must  indeed  have 
been  chasing  one  another  behind  that  frowning  brow 
of  his.  But  good  breeding  prevented  his  showing 
more  of  his  feelings  now,  and,  moreover,  he  really  was 
very  fond  of  his  wife,  and  put  all  her  coquetries  down 
to  youth  and  inexperience.  As  a  rule,  when  she  pro- 
voked him  beyond  endurance  he  found  that  an  hour 
or  two  away  from  her  presence  restored  his  equanim- 
ity and  reinflamed  his  ardour  and  admiration  for  her 
beauty. 

And  she  really  could  be  very  engaging  when  she 
chose.  Sir  Baldwin  still  cherished  in  his  heart  many 
happy  recollections  of  her  affection  for  him,  and  of 
her  pretty  show  of  gratitude,  whenever  —  after  a 
matrimonial  tiff  —  he  strove  to  console  her  by  the 
present  of  a  handsome  ring  or  some  other  article  of 
jewellery  which  she  had  previously  coveted.  Until 
recently  she  had  shown  him  quite  a  good  deal  of  defer- 
ence, never  flouting  him  in  public,  as  many  fashionable 
women  were  wont  to  do  to  their  husbands ;  and  he 
firmly  believed  that  all  her  flirtations  —  and  these 
were-  many  —  had  been  absolutely  innocent,  and 
merely  the  result  of  childlike  belief  in  her  own 
charms. 

But  Sir  Baldwin  was  a  very  proud  man,  and  fully 
conscious  of  his  eighty-and-forty  years^  and  of  the 
ridicule  which  is  wont  to  assail  a  middle-aged  husband 
when  the  wife  happens  to  be  young  and  pretty.  Dur- 
ing the  last  London  season  gossip  had  been  over-busy 
with  Lady  Jeffreys,  and  this  he  did  not  like.     In  his 


A  PROVOKING  YOUNG  WIFE  39 

own  estimation,  the  wife  of  Sir  Baldwin  Jeffreys 
should  be  beyond  suspicion,  and  for  the  past  few 
months  now  he  had  oft  heard  veiled  insinuating  talk 
aimed  against  his  wife. 

The  name  of  a  certain  Lieutenant  Carrington,  of 
H.MS.  Dolphin,  had  been  coupled  with  that  of  Lady 
Jeffreys.  The  young  man  was  well-looking  and  of 
approved  family  connections.  He  had  greatly  distin- 
guished himself  recently  in  the  China  seas,  and  on  his 
return  home  had  been  much  feted  in  London  society. 
Sir  Baldwin  knew  him  to  be  an  upright  and  honour- 
able fellow  incapable  of  vulgar  intrigue,  but  Lady 
Jeffreys  had  smiled  on  Lieutenant  Carrington  in  a 
manner  calculated  to  turn  the  head  of  any  unsophisti- 
cated young  man  fresh  from  the  China  seas.  Where- 
upon heads  began  to  nod  and  tongues  to  wag. 

Sir  Baldwin  was  very  angry,  and  all  through  the 
early  part  of  the  London  season  there  were  many  hot 
and  bitter  quarrels  between  himself  and  his  lady. 
Now  the  season  was  still  at  its  height,  and  Lady  Jef- 
freys's  reputation  had  become  a  rag  in  the  hands  of 
her  friends.  Sir  Baldwin  was  very  wrathful,  and  sud- 
denly took  it  upon  himself  to  announce  to  his  wife 
that  she  must  forthwith  prepare  to  quit  London,  for 
he  had  decided  that  she  should  spend  the  rest  of  the 
summer  at  their  country  house  near  Ashford. 

He  had  expected  protestations,  tears,  even  angry 
refusal,  at  this  preposterous  notion  of  quitting  London 
the  second  week  in  June,  when  the  season  was  at  its 
height  and  the  invitations  for  Lady  Sydney's  ball  and 
tlie  Duchess  of  Kent's  reception  were  just  out.  To  his 
astonishment,   Lady  Jeffreys  received  the  dictum  in 


40>  MEADOWSWEET 

perfect  meekness,  with  downcast  eyes  and  lips  slightly- 
twitching,  but  otherwise  in  absolute  submission  to  her 
husband's  will.  All  she  stipulated  as  a  reward  for 
passive  obedience  —  and  this,  too,  came  as  a  humble 
request  —  was  that  she  should  spend  the  beautiful 
month  of  June  in  her  old  home  in  Thanet.  It  would 
ease  the  sadness  of  her  heart,  she  said,  and  raised  a 
lace  pocket  handkerchief  to  her  eyes. 

Sir  Baldwin  Jeffreys  promptly  chided  himself  for 
being  a  brute  and  a  bully,  and  —  given  the  slightest 
encouragement  —  he  would  then  and  there  have  made 
amends  for  his  harshness  by  changing  his  intentions 
and  allowing  his  pretty,  submissive  wife  to  remain  in 
London  for  as  long  as  she  pleased.  But,  strangely 
enough,  Lady  Jeffreys  discouraged  all  attempts  at 
reconciliation,  and,  with  what  seemed  to  him  wilful 
obstinacy,  persisted  now  in  her  desire  to  spend  a  few 
weeks  with  her  uncle  and  aunt  at  Old  Manor  Farm. 

Whilst  Sir  Baldwin  completed  his  arrangements 
with  regard  to  the  care  of  his  London  house  whilst 
her  ladyship  would  be  away,  Olive  remained  perfectly 
charming,  even-tempered  and  gentle.  During  three 
days  Sir  Baldwin  Jeffreys  felt  himself  once  more  a 
happy  man.  Every  cloud  on  the  horizon  of  his  matri- 
monial heaven  seemed  to  have  been  dissipated  as  if  by 
magic,  and  he  realised  that  in  this  simple-hearted  coun- 
try girl  he  had  absolutely  found  an  ideal  mate,  and 
that  it  was  his  harshness  and  jealous  temper  alone  that 
had  warped  her  exquisite  disposition. 

On  the  fourth  day,  when  every  preparation  was 
complete  and  the  caretaker  and  his  family  were  duly 
installed  in  the  house  in  St.  James's-street,  Lady  Jef- 


A  PROVOKING  YOUNG  WIFE  41 

freys  suddenly  changed  her  tune.  Meekness,  submis- 
sion, and  gentleness  seemed  to  have  vanished  with  her 
boxes,  which  had  been  sent  on  by  the  luggage  chaise. 
Once  more  she  became  the  capricious,  exacting  woman 
who  in  the  past  three  years  had  well-nigh  broken  Sir 
Baldwin  Jeffreys's  heart  and  certainly  soured  his  dis- 
position. She  told  him  very  plainly  what  her  feelings 
were  towards  him,  and  these  certainly  were  anything 
but  kindly;  she  derided  him  for  his  jealousy,  upbraided 
him  for  his  harshness,  scorned  him  for  his  approach- 
ing middle  age,  and  finally  called  him  a  fool  for  hav- 
ing been  so  easily  gulled  into  the  belief  that  she  would 
ever  become  the  submissive  slave  of  an  abominable 
tyrant. 

She  posed  as  a  martyr  to  his  brutality,  and  finally 
entered  her  coach  with  wrath  expressed  in  every  line 
of  her  figure  and  triumph  blazing  —  unseen  by  him  — 
in  her  eyes. 

Thus  they  travelled  to  Ashford  —  she  alone  in  the 
coach,  he  riding  silently  by  its  side.  Thus  they  spent 
one  night  in  their  beautiful  country  house  without 
exchanging  one  single  word  of  friendship.  She 
closed  her  door  on  him  and  refused  to  respond  to 
every  overture  of  peace,  until  his  remorse  changed 
once  more  to  wrath,  and  he  brought  her  silently  to 
Old  Manor  Farm,  nursing  his  wrongs  and  vaguely 
thinking  of  revenge. 


CHAPTER  IV 

A   MEDDLESOME   OLD   BUSYBODY 

It  was  a  whole  hour  since  tea-time,  and  Boadicea 
had  not  yet  returned  from  her  birds'-nesting  expedi- 
tion. Sir  Baldwin  Jeffreys  would  have  liked  to  have 
seen  her  ere  he  left  Old  Manor  Farm,  because  he  was 
very  fond  of  the  child  and  was  really  sorry  for  her, 
though  in  a  measure  she  had  a  very  happy  home,  for 
Aunt  Caroline,  despite  her  habit  of  perpetual  scolding, 
was  a  warm-hearted,  kind,  and  generous  woman ; 
nevertheless,  the  girl's  life  must  of  necessity  be  a  very 
lonely  one.  There  were  but  few  neighbours  round 
Old  Manor  Farm,  and  practically  no  young  people  of 
Boadicea's  age  to  consort  with  her,  and  since  the  mar- 
riage of  her  sister  there  was  no  doubt  that  she  must 
have  led  a  very  isolated  life. 

It  was  therefore  with  deep  regret  that  Sir  Baldwin 
found  himself  forced  to  start  his  return  journey  with- 
out having  embraced  little  Boadicea,  but  the  hour  was 
getting  late  if  he  desired  to  reach  Ash  ford  before 
evening.  He  had  dispatched  the  coach  homewards 
earlier  in  the  day,  and  now  he  asked  that  his  horse 
might  be  brought  round  forthwith. 

To  Aunt  Caroline's  hospitable  entreaties  that  he 
should  stay  at  least  until  the  morrow  he  opposed  a 
steady  refusal.     The  brief  scene  which  he  had  just 

42 


A  MEDDLESOME  OLD  BUSYBODY      43 

had  with  his  wife  had  told  him  plainly  how  wide  for 
the  moment  was  the  matrimonial  breach,  and  that 
nothing  but  absence  could  tighten  the  bonds  of  affec- 
tion which  were  threatening  to  snap. 

Old  Manor  Farm,  though  commodious  and  soundly- 
built,  was  none  too  roomy.  If  Sir  Baldwin  now 
elected  to  stay,  he  would  perforce  be  thrown  greatly 
in  his  wife's  company- — not  to  say  intimacy  —  and 
he  believed  that  in  her  present  highly  irritable  mood 
and  his  own  sense  of  wrong  both  he  and  she  might  be 
tempted  to  say  things  which  would  render  the  breach 
irreparable. 

Olive  had  retired  to  her  room  after  the  violent  pas- 
sage of  arms  in  the  hall.  Sir  Baldwin  could  entertain 
no  hope  that  she  would  come  down  again  before  his 
departure  in  order  to  bid  him  farewell. 

But  Aunt  Caroline  fussed  round  him,  garrulous  and 
kindly  as  usual,  offering  him  various  kinds  of  refresh- 
ment, despite  the  fact  that  he  had  not  yet  had  time  to 
digest  his  tea,  and  incidentally  inventing  a  hundred 
apologies  for  Olive's  conduct,  which  in  her  own  heart 
she  felt  had  been  very  blameworthy  indeed. 

Just  when  Sir  Baldwin  was  leaving,  his  horse  being 
at  the  door  with  Topcoat  —  the  outdoor  man  —  at  his 
head,  Bamaby  Crabtree  came  up  those  few  steps  which 
lead  from  the  hall  to  the  dining-room  and  kitchen  of 
Old  Manor  Farm.  He  had  spent  the  last  half-hour 
in  polishing  off  the  muffins  and  tea  which  had  been 
set  aside  on  the  hob  for  Boadicea  when  she  returned. 

Barnaby  Crabtree  was  very  dyspeptic,  which  ail- 
ment made  his  complexion  muddy  and  the  whites  of 
his  eyes  yellow,  but  It  did  not  make  him  thin.     He 


44  MEADOWSWEET 

was  a  huge,  fat  man,  with  a  big  bald  head,  round  the 
base  of  which  sparse  hair  of  a  faded  sandy  colour 
made  an  uneven  fringe  from  ear  to  ear. 

He  had  very  few  teeth  in  his  mouth,  which  caused 
his  jaw  to  look  loose  and  flabby,  and  the  colour  of  his 
eyes  was  of  a  nondescript  yellowish  grey.  He  was 
invariably  dressed  in  loose,  ill-fitting  clothes,  with 
long  trousers  that  reached  midway  down  his  shins, 
disclosing  four  inches  of  pink  and  white  striped  cotton 
socks,  and  half  the  day  he  went  about  with  carpet 
slippers  on  his  feet  and  with  a  napkin  tied  round  his 
neck  like  a  bib. 

Sir  Baldwin,  who  had  not  previous  to  this  day  been 
acquainted  with  him,  thought  him  the  most  extraordi- 
nary-looking man  he  had  ever  seen.  During  dinner, 
however.  Aunt  Caroline  had  so  monopolised  his  atten- 
tion that  he  had  not  paid  much  heed  to  Mr.  Crabtree, 
who,  on  the  other  hand,  was  far  too  deeply  engrossed 
in  the  business  of  eating  and  drinking  to  bestow  any 
attention  on  Sir  Baldwin. 

Thus,  meeting  in  the  hall,  and  with  Sir  Baldwin  just 
on  the  point  of  departure,  even  Barnaby  Crabtree  — 
ill-mannered  though  he  was  —  could  not  help  but 
pause  a  moment  in  order  to  bid  him  farewell. 

"  You  are  wise,"  he  said  blandly,  "  to  make  an  early 
start ;  horse  exercise  is  exceedingly  unwholesome  after 
a  heavy  meal." 

"  Oh,  as  to  that,"  remarked  Sir  Baldwin,  "  I  would 
gladly  have  ridden  after  supper  had  the  distance  been 
less  great  or  the  moon  at  its  full !  As  it  is,  and  with 
so  much  thunder  in  the  air,  I  must  make  for  Ashford 
before  nightfall." 


A  MEDDLESOME  OLD  BUSYBODY      45 

"And  you  are  not  taking  your  wife  away  with 
you?" 

"  Certainly  not !  "  interposed  Aunt  Caroline.  "  Sir 
Baldwin,  I  am  happy  to  say,  has  brought  our  dear 
Olive  down  here  for  a  lengthy  stay." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Cousin  Barnaby ;  *'  I  am  sorry  to  hear 
that." 

"  Sorry!  "  ejaculated  Aunt  Caroline  in  great  indig- 
nation.    "  Well,  really,  Cousin  Barnaby !  .  .  ." 

And,  despite  his  sorrowful  mood,  Sir  Baldwin 
himself  could  not  help  but  smile  at  the  man's  im- 
pudence. 

"  Females  in  a  household  are  a  greatly  disturbing 
element,  Caroline,"  rejoined  Mr.  Crabtree,  quite  un- 
perturbed, "  and  it  is  a  strange  and  regrettable  fact 
that,  though  I  came  here  solely  for  peace  —  for  this 
place  is  otherwise  neither  amusing  nor  exhilarating  — 
I  have  been  troubled  on  one  and  the  same  day  with 
the  two  things  I  have  always  tried  to  avoid." 

"And  what  may  these  two  things  be,  sir?"  asked 
Sir  Baldwin  politely. 

"  Females  and  sailors,"  said  Mr.  Crabtree  curtly. 

"Sailors?" 

"  Aye !  Females  and  sailors,  sir,  are  equally  objec- 
tionable, and,  like  headache  and  biliousness,  you  sel- 
dom get  one  without  the  other." 

"  Sailors  ?  "  reiterated  Sir  Baldwin,  who,  indeed, 
now  seemed  gravely  disturbed.  The  frown  on  his 
brow  had  deepened,  and  his  eyes  travelled  restlessly 
and  as  if  suspiciously  from  one  face  to  the  other. 

"  Will  you  kindly  explain,  sir?  "  he  said  courteously, 
trying  his  best  to  appear  calm. 


46  MEADOWSWEET 

With  her  usual  garrulousness  Aunt  Caroline  quickly 
interposed. 

"  Nay,  nay,  Sir  Baldwin,"  said  she ;  "  I  pray  you 
take  no  heed  of  Cousin  Barnaby.  .  .  .  His  bark,  as 
the  saying  is,  is  more  vicious  than  his  bite  .  .  ." 

"Oh,  is  it?"  muttered  Cousin  Barnaby. 

"  He  is  as  pleased  as  we  all  are  that  our  dear  Olive 
will  stay  with  us  for  awhile." 

"Oh,  ami?" 

"  But  he  has  been  a  little  upset  since  yesterday, 
when  H.M.S.  Dolphin  put  into  Ramsgate  Harbour." 

"The  Dolphin!"  exclaimed  Sir  Baldwin,  and  for 
the  first  time  to-day  his  good  manners  deserted  him, 
and  he  swore  a  very  ugly  oath,  which  greatly  dis- 
tressed Aunt  Caroline,  for  she  could  not  understand  its 
cause,  though  she  did  know  that  fashionable  gentle- 
men in  London  had  a  vv'ay  of  swearing  at  all  times, 
in  and  out  of  season.  She  supposed  that  as  he  was 
gesticulating  somewhat  vigorously  with  his  riding- 
crop  he  must  have  struck  his  ankle  with  it ;  and  every- 
body knows  how  painful  such  a  blow  can  be. 

However,  she  thought  it  would  be  more  polite  to 
pretend  not  to  have  heard  the  vigorous  expletive  at  all, 
so  she  rejoined  quite  placidly : 

"  Yes,  the  Dolphin.  Some  of  her  officers  are  lodg- 
ing in  the  town ;  they  came  ashore  yesterday." 

"  And  demoralised  the  entire  female  population  of 
Thanet,"  concluded  Mr.  Crabtree  acidly. 

"  As  for  me,"  said  she,  "  I  am  pining  to  see  the  son 
of  my  old  friend  Mamie  Carrington." 

This  time  Sir  Baldwin  did  not  swear,  but  had  Aunt 
Caroline  not  been  so  absorbed  in  her  own  conversa- 


A  MEDDLESOME  OLD  BUSYBODY      47 

tion  she  would  have  been  startled  by  the  expression 
on  his  face.  His  eyes  nearly  disappeared  under  the 
frown,  and  his  lips  were  set  so  tightly  that  they  formed 
just  one  narrow  dark  streak  above  his  chin. 

"  You  must  remember  Mamie  Carrington,  Sir  Bald- 
win," continued  Aunt  Caroline  volubly.  "  She  was 
Mary  Janet  Calverston,  you  know  —  such  a  pretty  girl 
—  and  she  made  a  splendid  match.  Squire  Carring- 
ton is  the  richest  man  in  Lincolnshire,  so  they  say,  and 
they  have  an  only  son.  Jack,  who  is  a  lieutenant  on  the 
Dolphin  now.  When  last  I  saw  him  he  was  a  baby 
in  long  clothes,  and —  But  what  is  the  matter,  Sir 
Baldwin?"  she  said,  the  tone  of  her  voice  suddenly 
changing,  for  she  had  caught  sight  of  the  wrathful 
expression  in  his  face.     "  You  seem  upset." 

"  Oh,  it's  nothing,  nothing!  "  he  said,  trying  to  mas- 
ter himself  and  to  speak  quietly.  "I  —  I  must  speak 
with  my  wife." 

He  made  a  movement  as  if  desiring  to  go  upstairs 
to  his  wife's  room,  and  Aunt  Caroline  intercepted  him, 
saying  hurriedly: 

"  Let  me  go  and  tell  her,  and  do  you  sit  down 
awhile,  Sir  Baldwin.  I  declare,  you  seem  to  be  trem- 
bling all  over.     I'll  go  and  tell  Olive." 

But  now  it  was  he  who  detained  her,  placing  his 
hand  on  her  arm. 

"  I  thank  you,"  he  said.  "  That  is  —  I  pray  you  do 
not  go.  V\\  not  disturb  her  now  —  not  just  at  this 
moment.     I  — " 

He  paused  a  moment,  and  then  resumed  quite 
calmly : 

''  Dear  Mrs,  Hemingford,  you  have  been  so  kind, 


48  MEADOWSWEET 

and  your  kindness  renders  me  presumptuous.  I 
think  that,  in  effect,  the  heat  has  been  rather  too  much 
for  me.  I  was  in  the  saddle  some  hours  under  the 
glare  of  the  midday  sun.  I  think,  if  you  would  allow 
me,  I  would  like  to  change  my  mind  and  stay  until  I 
can  get  home  in  the  cool  of  the  evening." 

"  Change  your  mind,  Sir  Baldwin,  by  all  means !  " 
exclaimed  Aunt  Carolinej  who  was  highly  delighted, 
and  in  the  simplicity  of  her  heart  never  thought  of  con- 
necting Sir  Baldwin's  caprice  with  his  curious  be- 
haviour of  a  moment  ago.  "  Glad  indeed  am  I  to 
have  the  pleasure  of  your  company  a  little  longer!  " 

"  Positively  idiotic !  "  was  Cousin  Barnaby's  mut- 
tered comment. 

"  Won't  you,"  she  added,  "  change  your  mind  yet 
further  and  stay  the  night?" 

"  No,  no !  "  said  he  more  cheerily.  "  Thank  you  a 
thousand  times!  And,  if  I  may,  I  will  just  tell  your 
man  to  put  up  my  horse  again  until  after  supper. 
What  time  will  that  be,  dear  Mrs.  Hemingford?  " 

"  Half-past  six,  Sir  Baldwin,  if  quite  convenient  to 
you." 

"  Then,  if  you  will  allow  me,  I  will  order  my  horse 
for  half-past  seven  o'clock.  It  will  be  a  beautiful 
bright  night,  and  I  can  reach  Ashford,  even  with  a 
good  long  rest  at  Canterbury,  well  before  midnight." 

He  seemed  to  have  quite  regained  his  composure, 
and  Aunt  Caroline  —  than  whom  there  was  not  a  less 
observant  person  —  never  noticed  that  the  angry  flush 
still  lingered  in  his  cheeks  and  that  the  frown  had,  if 
anything,  deepened  on  his  brow. 

Barnaby  Crabtree,  much  disappointed  that  at  least 


A  MEDDLESOME  OLD  BUSYBODY      49 

one  of  the  unwelcome  visitors  would  not  be  going  just 
yet,  had  unceremoniously  walked  upstairs  in  the  direc- 
tion of  his  room. 

Sir  Baldwin  Jeffreys  went  to  the  door  and  gave  Top- 
coat half  a  sovereign,  telling  him  to  bring  the  horse 
round  again  at  half -past  seven.  He  had  a  burning  de- 
sire in  his  heart  to  speak  yet  once  more  with  his  wife. 
He  wanted  to  assure  himself  that  her  submission  when 
leaving  London  had  not  been  a  clever  mask  to  hide  her 
duplicity  and  her  wilfulness.  He  could  not  imagine 
that  she  had  prearranged  this  journey  to  Thanet  with 
a  view  to  meeting  young  Carrington  clandestinely. 

In  his  heart  of  hearts  he  believed  her  to  be  incapable 
of  such  a  vulgar  intrigue,  but  he  wished  to  speak  with 
her,  just  once  again,  in  order  to  make  sure. 

At  the  same  time,  he  did  not  wish  to  meet  her  now 
in  the  first  flush  of  his  anger  and  whilst  jealous  sus- 
picions were  tearing  at  his  heart,  and  might  cause  him 
to  say  things  which  he  afterwards  would  regret.  His 
friend,  Mr.  Culpepper,  was  for  the  moment  in  residence 
at  the  Abbey,  distant  just  over  two  miles  from  Old 
Manor  Farm.  Sir  Baldwin  in  his  mind  decided  that 
the  best  thing  he  could  do  would  be  to  walk  down  and 
visit  his  friend,  and  then  to  return  in  about  two  hours' 
time,  sobered  from  his  anger  and  his  temper  quite  cool. 

He  expressed  his  wish  to  Aunt  Caroline,  who,  feel- 
ing reassured  as  to  his  health,  gave  him  directions  how 
to  take  short  cuts  through  certain  fields  the  sooner  to 
reach  the  Abbey. 

Then  she  nodded  pleasantly  to  him  from  the  door- 
step, assured  him  that  she  would  in  the  meanwhile 
explain  to  Olive  that  he  had  decided  to  tarry  until  the 


50  MEADOWSWEET 

cool  hours  of  the  evening,  and  finally,  when  he  walked 
away  in  the  direction  of  Minster,  she  waved  him  a 
last  adieu,  and  then  carefully  closed  the  front  door. 

After  which  she  went  in  search  of  her  darning 
basket. 


CHAPTER  V 

A   CAPRICIOUS   TYRANT 

It  still  wanted  an  hour  or  two  before  supper-time, 
and  still  Boadicea  was  from  home. 

Aunt  Caroline,  feeling  a  little  anxious,  but  not  al- 
lowing herself  to  appear  so,  or  her  anxiety  to  interfere 
with  the  usual  arrangements  of  the  day,  had  gone  — 
as  was  her  wont  —  to  worry  Uncle  Jasper  in  his  study. 

She  always  did  this  between  tea-time  and  supper, 
because,  supper  being  a  cold  meal  at  Old  Manor  Farm, 
she  always  got  it  ready  earlier  in  the  day,  and  had 
therefore  plenty  of  leisure  between  the  hours  of  four 
o'clock  and  6 130.  Having  nothing  more  important  to 
do  at  that  hour,  she  invariably  took  her  darning  basket 
up  to  the  museum,  and  sat  there  darning  socks  and 
plaguing  Uncle  Jasper  with  countless  interruptions, 
just  when  he  was  most  deeply  immersed  in  his  books. 

She  worried  him  with  every  subject  she  could  possi- 
bly think  of:  Susan's  misdeeds  and  Boadicea's  edu- 
cation, and  lately  it  had  been  Cousin  Barnaby's  selfish- 
ness and  greed. 

We  must,  however,  do  Aunt  Caroline  the  justice  to 
say  that  she  did  not  greatly  upset  Uncle  Jasper.  Her 
talk  was  so  garrulous  and  so  constant  that  after  the 
first  few  minutes  he  paid  no  more  heed  to  it ;  he  could 
go  on  reading  perched  upon  his  library  steps  whilst 
her  voice  went  droning  on  from  below. 

51 


52  AlEADOWSWEET 

"  You,  Jasper,  have  got  to  put  your  foot  down !  " 

She  had  made  this  remark  once  or  twice  before  this 
afternoon  whilst  she  sat  darning  Cousin  Barnaby's 
pink  and  white  striped  socks;  but  Uncle  Jasper,  still 
absorbed  in  his  reading,  did  not  look  up  from  his  book. 
She  took  up  her  large  cutting-out  scissors  and  banged 
the  metal  gluepot  persistently  with  it,  until  Uncle 
Jasper  was  bound  to  notice  her. 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  dear,"  he  said  gently.  "  What  is 
it?" 

"  You  must  put  your  foot  down !  "  she  reiterated 
very  slowly,  accentuating  every  syllable  as  she  spoke. 
And  Uncle  Jasper,  who  always  perched  cross-legged 
on  the  library  steps,  quickly  uncrossed  his  legs  and 
put  his  right  foot  meekly  down  beside  the  left. 

In  doing  so  he  lost  his  balance,  and  his  book  slid  off 
his  thin  knees  right  down  on  to  the  floor  with  a  great 
clatter  and  the  raising  of  a  cloud  of  dust. 

Uncle  Jasper  quietly  came  down  the  steps,  picked 
up  his  book,  and  once  more  mounted  up  to  his  perch, 
whilst  Aunt  Caroline  went  on  vigorously  darning  a 
white  stocking,  not  for  a  moment  thinking  of  assist- 
ing poor  Uncle  Jasper,  and  talking  volubly  at  him  all 
the  time. 

"  Barnaby  Crabtree,"  she  said,  "  has  fastened  on  us 
like  a  hungry  leech.  Lord,  how  that  man  eats !  Three 
large  cups  of  tea  this  afternoon,  and  tea  at  six  shillings 
a  pound!  I  tell  ye,  Jasper,  that  if  he  does  not  leave 
this  house  soon  you  will  have  to  carry  me  out  of  it 
in  my  coffin.  .  .  ,  The  best  bedroom,  too  .  .  .  and 
five  weeks  to-day  since  he  came.  .  .  .  But  now  that 
Olive  has  come  to  stay  with  us,"  she  added,  more 


A  CAPRICIOUS  TYRANT  53 

loudly  and  impressively,  "  Barnaby  has  got  to  go !  " 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  said  Uncle  Jasper,  who  had  not 
the  remotest  idea  what  his  worthy  wife  was  talking 
about. 

Promptly  did  Aunt  Caroline  bring  up  one  of  her 
most  regretful  sighs. 

"  What  I  have  had  to  endure  in  life,"  she  said, 
"  through  marrying  a  man  who  spends  his  days  on  the 
top  of  a  ladder,  no  other  woman  can  possibly  know. 
If  I  had  only  married  Ebenezer  Toogood,  who  wanted 
me  at  the  same  time  as  you  did,  Jasper,  I  shouldn't 
have  had  the  whole  of  an  entire  household  upon  my 
shoulders,  for  Ebenezer  did  have  other  thoughts  be- 
sides beetles  and  lizards.  .  .  .  And  now,"  she  went  on 
with  her  usual  irrelevance,  "  here's  Barnaby  Crabtree, 
whom  you  asked  to  come  for  three  days  and  who  has 
been  here  five  weeks !  " 

The  idea  of  Uncle  Jasper  asking  anybody  to  stay 
anywhere  or  to  do  anything  except  leave  him  alone 
was  distinctly  humorous,  but  Aunt  Caroline  abhorred 
humour  when  household  matters  were  being  talked 
about  —  so  she  ignored  it  sedulously. 

"  But,"  she  said,  "  I  have  quite  made  up  my  mind. 
Barnaby  has  got  to  go.  .  .  .  not  to-day,  because  it  is 
too  late  to  order  a  chaise,  though  I  doubt  not  but  Sir 
Baldwin  is  so  polite  he  would  allow  the  old  toad  to 
travel  in  his  coach.  .  .  .  No,  no ;  I  had  forgotten  — 
Sir  Baldwin's  coach  has  left  already.  .  .  .  But  no 
matter.  To-morrow  I  can  order  Hickmott's  trap  to 
take  Barnaby  as  far  as  Dover,  and  from  there  he  can 
journey  by  stage  coach  to  London.     I'll  pack  all  his 


54  MEADOWSWEET 

things  —  glad  shall  I  be  to  be  rid  of  him,  and — " 

But  here  Aunt  Caroline's  flow  of  eloquence  was  in- 
terrupted, not  by  Uncle  Jasper,  who  never  interrupted 
anybody,  nor  yet  by  Olive,  who  was  still  in  the  dumps 
up  in  her  room,  but  by  no  other  person  than  Barnaby 
Crabtree  himself,  whose  stentorian  voice  was  heard 
ringing  from  end  to  end  of  the  house. 

"  I  won't  have  it!  "  he  shouted  from  the  top  of  the 
stairs,  and  he  could  then  be  heard  coming  down  them 
as  fast  as  his  fat  legs  would  carry  his  fat  body.  "  I 
won't  have  it,  I  tell  you !  .  .  .  Cousin  Caroline !  .  .  . 
Cousin  Caroline ! "  he  shouted  still  more  loudly. 
"  Where  in  thunder  are  you  ?  " 

Aunt  Caroline  hastily  put  down  her  darning;  I  do 
believe  that  her  hands  were  trembling,  and  that  her 
round  face  had  become  very  white.  Uncle  Jasper 
even  had  been  startled  by  all  that  shouting,  and,  as 
usual  when  he  was  startled,  he  dropped  the  book  which 
he  had  been  reading,  and  then  meekly  ran  down  the 
library  steps  to  fetch  it. 

He  got  the  book,  and  was  about  to  remount  the  steps 
again  with  it  when  Aunt  Caroline  simply  darted  across 
the  room,  heedless  of  eggs  and  stuffed  lizards, 
that  flew  about  in  all  directions  as  her  voluminous 
bombazene  skirt  knocked  them  down  off  tables  and 
chairs. 

Just  as  Uncle  Jasper  put  his  foot  on  the  fifth  step 
of  his  ladder  she  caught  him  by  his  white-stockinged 
ankle  and  held  on  to  it  with  all  her  might. 

"  Jasper,"  she  whispered  eagerly,  "  Jasper,  come 
down  —  now  is  the  time  to  put  your  foot  down !  " 

But  Uncle  Jasper,  with  the  strength  of  the  weak  and 


A  CAPRICIOUS  TYRANT  55 

the  courage  of  intense  terror,  gave  a  vigorous  jerk  with 
his  leg.  His  shabby  buckled  shoe  remained  in  Aunt 
Caroline's  hand,  and  he  scrambled  helter-skelter  up  the 
steps  and  once  more  perched  himself  on  the  very  top, 
for  all  the  world  like  a  frightened  crow. 

Before  Aunt  Caroline  could  say  another  word  the 
door  of  the  museum  was  kicked  open  by  a  heavy  foot 
and  Barnaby  Crabtree  stood  upon  the  threshold. 

*'  Caroline,"  he  shouted  as  he  entered  the  room  and 
marched  across  it  with  a  short,  shuffling  stride,  "  have 
you  sworn  to  be  the  death  of  me?  Have  you  and 
Jasper  entered  into  a  conspiracy  to  murder  me  ?  I  ask 
because  if  this  goes  on  much  longer  you  will  have  to 
carry  me  out  of  this  house  in  my  coffin." 

He  now  turned  and  faced  Aunt  Caroline,  wrath  ex- 
pressed in  every  line  of  his  wide,  flat  face.  She  was 
standing  at  the  foot  of  the  library  steps,  still  holding 
Uncle  Jasper's  buckled  shoe  in  her  hand.  She  would 
not  have  owned  it  to  herself  for  worlds,  but  as  a  point 
of  fact  her  heart  was  beating  furiously  and  her  knees 
were  shaking  under  her.  She  was  so  mightily  afraid 
of  Barnaby  Crabtree. 

With  the  buckled  shoe  she  tapped  Uncle  Jasper's 
legs,  making  him  very  fidgety  and  uncomfortable.  He 
very  nearly  lost  his  balance,  and  twice  his  knuckles 
caught  a  rap  from  the  shoe  when  he  was  rubbing  his 
shins. 

Barnaby  Crabtree  certainly  looked  very  formidable. 
He  was  so  very  fat  and  big  and  seemed  to  take  up 
such  a  lot  of  room,  and  he  had  a  way  of  rolling  his 
pale-coloured,  fishlike  eyes  which  gave  his  countenance 
a  very  weird  expression. 


56  MEADOWSWEET 

Uncle  Jasper  gave  a  timid  little  cough  as  a  prelimi- 
nary to  more  lengthy  speech.  I  suppose  that  he  had 
suddenly  made  up  his  mind  to  this,  because  all  the 
while  that  he  was  silent  Aunt  Caroline  kept  on  rap- 
ping his  shins  with  the  shoe.  And  his  shins  were 
getting  very  sore. 

"  We  should  be  very  sorry,  Barnaby,"  he  said, 
"  to  .  .  .  hem  ...  if  we  were  to  lose  you  .  .  . 
hem.  .  .  .  Amicum  perdere  est  .  .  ." 

"  Don't  quote  that  abominable  Latin,  Jasper ! " 
thundered  Barnaby  in  deafening  tones.  "  Do  you 
want  to  see  me  go  into  hysterics?  " 

"God  forbid,  Barnaby!"  ejaculated  Uncle  Jasper 
meekly.     *'  That  would  indeed  be  a  horrible  sight." 

"But  what's  the  matter  now,  Cousin  Barnaby?" 
asked  Aunt  Caroline,  with  sudden  resolution. 

"What's  the  matter,  ma'am?"  retorted  Mr.  Crab- 
tree.  "  Everything's  the  matter.  Noise  and  bustle, 
ma'am.     Why  did  I  come  here,  pray  ?  " 

"  Ego  cogito,"  sighed  Uncle  Jasper,  "  I  am  wonder- 
ing." 

"  I  came  here  for  peace  and  quiet,"  continued 
Cousin  Barnaby  sternly,  "  and  now  that  young  per- 
son whose  cap  is  always  awry  tells  me  that  I  am  to  be 
turned  out  of  my  room  for  your  niece." 

"  Susan  told  you  rightly.  Cousin  Barnaby,"  said 
Caroline,  who  was  striving  to  look  dignified,  and  ill- 
succeeding,  poor  dear,  seeing  that  she  was  fidgetting 
nervously  with  Uncle  Jasper's  leg  in  one  hand  and  his 
shoe  in  the  other.  "  The  room  is  wanted  for  my 
niece,  Lady  Jeffreys,  who  will  make  a  stay  here  for  a 
few  days." 


A  CAPRICIOUS  TYRANT  57 

"  A  few  days  —  a  few  days,  ma'am  ?  And  who 
asked  her,  pray?  " 

"  My  niece  comes  when  she  likes,  Cousin  Barnaby. 
She  asked  herself  this  time." 

"  Dux  femina  facti  .  .  ."  murmured  Uncle  Jasper 
feebly. 

"  Don't  do  that,  Jasper,"  roared  Mr.  Crabtree,  "  you 
give  me  the  gripes." 

"  Dandelion  roots  chopped  up  fine,"  suggested  Aunt 
Caroline,  "  with  a  dash  of  sweet  oil  .  .  ." 

"  Ugh !  don't  come  round  doctoring  me,  ma'am.  .  .  . 
I  tell  you  that  all  I  want  is  peace.  ...  I  find  your 
niece  a  disturbing  person.  .  .  .  The  sooner  she  goes 
the  better  I  shall  like  it.  .  .  .  And  you  can  tell  her  so 
if  you  like.  ...  I  don't  care.  I  came  here  for  peace. 
Tell  that  to  your  niece,  ma'am  —  and  peace  at  all  costs 
must  I  have." 

He  went  over  to  the  sofa,  and  before  you  could 
guess  what  was  his  purpose  he  had  calmly  swept  all 
the  specimens  on  to  the  floor,  and  they  rolled  off  and 
scattered  about  in  all  directions,  whilst  two  eggs  were 
smashed  into  little  pieces.  In  a  moment  Uncle  Jasper 
had  dropped  his  book  and  was  running  helter-skelter 
down  the  library  steps. 

"  Heavens,  Barnaby,"  he  ejaculated,  "  a  valuable 
pair  of  eggs!  .  .  ,  Owl's  eggs!" 

He  was  down  on  his  knees,  poor  dear,  trying  to 
rescue  the  scattered  specimens  and  examining  the 
damage  done  to  his  precious  eggs.  But  Barnaby 
Crabtree  sat  himself  down  placidly  upon  the  sofa. 

"  Then,"  he  said  coolly,  "  I  ask  you,  Jasper,  in  the 


58  MEADOWSWEET 

name  of  commonsense,   is  a  begad  sofa  the  proper 
place  for  owl's  eggs  ?  " 

"  Put  your  foot  down,  Jasper,"  whispered  Aunt 
Caroline  close  to  Uncle  Jasper's  ear.  "  Now  is  your 
time." 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  replied  he. 

He  was  then  lying  flat  down  on  the  floor  trying  to 
arrive  at  a  pair  of  blown  frogs  that  had  slid  along  the 
polished  floor  to  an  impossible  spot  under  some  heavy 
piece  of  furniture,  right  out  of  his  reach.  It  was  of 
course  difficult  for  him  in  that  position  to  put  his  foot 
down,  seeing  that  both  his  feet,  one  shod  and  the 
other  only  encased  in  white  cotton  stocking,  were 
quivering  in  mid-air,  the  length  of  his  shins  from  the 
floor. 

"  Don't  go  fidgetting  round  me  like  that,  Jasper," 
said  Barnaby  Crabtree  irritably.  "  Can't  you  leave 
those  things  alone  ?  " 

"  I  am  only  collecting  the  scattered  remains,  Barn- 
aby," said  Uncle  Jasper,  struggling  back  to  a  more 
convenient  position,  "  disjecta  membra.  .  .  ." 
"  Don't  do  that,"  thundered  Mr.  Crabtree. 
"  No,  Barnaby." 

And  with  this  last  meek  little  saying,  Uncle  Jasper 
finally  relinquished  all  hope  of  being  able  to  put  his 
foot  down,  and  I  must  say  that  Aunt  Caroline  made 
no  grave  effort  in  that  direction  either.  At  the  back 
of  her  mind  there  lingered  the  thought  that  Barnaby 
Crabtree  was  "not  strong"— such  a  favourite  ex- 
pression on  the  tongue  of  a  motherly  woman  who  has 
not  a  large  family  on  whom  to  bestow  the  superfluous 
abundance  of  her  kind  heart. 


A  CAPRICIOUS  TYRANT  59 

Barnaby  Crabtree  had  given  Aunt  Caroline  so  much 
trouble  in  the  past  five  weeks  that  he  had  spent  in  the 
house,  she  had  dosed  him  so  persistently,  and  —  as 
she  thought  —  so  successfully,  with  her  home-made 
medicaments,  that  she  took  a  great  interest  in  his  gen- 
eral health,  and,  believe  me,  she  would  greatly  have 
missed  him  if  he  had  suddenly  made  up  his  mind 
to  go. 

Therefore  to-day,  as  on  all  previous  days,  Mr. 
Crabtree  was  left  the  master  of  the  situation,  and  of 
the  household.  Aunt  Caroline  had  been  rendered 
anxious  by  the  state  of  his  health,  which  verged  on 
apoplexy  every  time  that  he  lost  his  temper,  and  Uncle 
Jasper  had  retreated  to  his  perch,  tired  of  strife,  of 
noise,  and  of  distractions,  which  took  his  mind  away 
from  the  pleasing  realms  of  romance  where  owls  and 
bats  reign  supreme  and  frogs  and  lizards  are  of  para- 
mount importance.  Cousin  Barnaby  lay  back  on  the 
sofa,  crossed  his  hands  over  his  protruding  middle, 
and  gave  a  sigh  of  satisfaction. 

"  Where  is  that  noisy  young  female,"  he  said  after 
awhile,  when  Aunt  Caroline,  having  given  up  all 
thoughts  of  further  strife,  had  quietly  resumed  her 
darning,  "  whose  name  sounds  like  a  cold  in  the 
head?" 

"Boadicea?"  suggested  Aunt  Caroline. 

"  Now  I  ask  you  in  the  name  of  commonsense,"  in- 
terposed Barnaby  irritably,  "  is  that  a  proper  name  for 
a  self-respecting  young  female  ?  " 

"  She  can't  help  her  name,  poor  darling,"  protested 
Aunt  Caroline. 

"  She  can  help  spending  half  her  day  gyrating  on 


6o  MEADOWSWEET 

tree-tops  and  displaying  various  portions  of  her  person 
which  usually  are  kept  from  view." 

You  may.  well  imagine  how  shocked  was  Aunt 
Caroline  at  such  language.  Her  work  fell  into  her 
lap,  and  for  a  moment  was  quite  speechless,  after 
which  she  merely  gasped : 

"Really,  Barnaby!" 

Then  she  picked  up  her  work  again,  and  for  awhile 
she  plied  her  needle  in  silence.  But,  as  we  all  know, 
silence  was  not  one  of  Aunt  Caroline's  most  favoured 
virtues.  Drawing  her  needle  in  and  out,  she  became 
tired  of  saying  nothing,  and  even  Cousin  Barnaby 's 
conversation  seemed  under  the  circumstance  preferable 
to  no  conversation  at  all. 

"  In  the  poultry  yard,"  she  remarked,  "  Boadicea  is 
my  right  hand." 

"  A  hand,"  he  grunted,  "  that  would  be  all  the  bet- 
ter for  an  occasional  wash,  ma'am." 

Now,  though  Aunt  Caroline  devoted  a  considerable 
portion  of  the  day  in  scolding  and  admonishing  her 
niece,  she  could  not  bear  anyone  else  to  criticise  either 
Olive  or  Boadicea,  and  now  she  was  very  indignant 
and  said  hotly: 

"  Barnaby,  you  are  insulting  the  child  —  aye,  and 
you  insult  me  too,  seeing  that  I  have  brought  her  up 
and  still  see  to  her  hands  and  complexion.  It's  bad 
enough  that  you  should  eat  the  muffins  which  I  had 
set  aside  for  the  poor  child's  tea,  and  now  you  must 
be  adding  insult  to  injury." 

"  Flagitio  additis  damnum !  "  murmured  Uncle  Jas- 
per to  the  accompaniment  of  a  short,  weary  sigh. 

"  Profane  language  now,"  shouted  Cousin  Barnaby, 


A  CAPRICIOUS  TYRANT  6i 

who  seemed  very  exasperated.  "  I  cannot  endure 
profane  language." 

And  he  who  swore,  morning,  noon,  and  night! 

"  It  was  Latin,  Barnaby,"  protested  Uncle  Jasper 
mildly. 

"  Then  if  you  can't  swear  in  English,  Jasper,  you'd 
best  leave  it  alone." 

Then  he  turned  his  attention  once  more  to  Aunt 
Caroline. 

"  There  are  a  few  other  items,  Caroline,"  he  began, 
and  I  can  assure  you  that  this  time  his  voice  was  quite 
unctuous,  like  that  of  a  man  who  has  infinite  patience 
under  most  trying  ills,  "  to  which  I  may  call  your 
attention  at  a  more  fitting  opportunity.  For  instance, 
the  presence  of  an  animated  fly  in  the  raspberry  jam 
this  morning,  a  condiment  altogether  distasteful  in  a 
preserve,  and  one  that  no  self-respecting  housewife 
should  tolerate  for  a  moment." 

"  We  can't  always  help  the  flies  getting  into  sweet 
things  this  time  of  year,  Cousin  Barnaby,"  she  re- 
marked meekly,  "  and  I  try  to  keep  all  jam  and  fruit 
well  covered.  It  was  you,  if  you  remember,  who  left 
the  raspberry  jam  uncovered  after  you  had  helped 
yourself  at  breakfast." 

"  It  was  not  I  who  put  the  fly  into  it  subsequently. 
But  let  that  pass.  I  am  not  one  to  complain,  and  all  I 
want  is  peace.  We'll  let  the  fly  pass,  Caroline,  but 
there  is  another  item  to  which  I  think  your  attention 
should  be  called,  and  that  is  the  presence  of  a  parcel 
of  kittens  underneath  my  bed.  Now,  even  your  own 
fault-finding  and  criticising  disposition  could  not  tax 
me  with  being  the  cause  of  the  increase  in  your  cat's 


62  MEADOWSWEET 

family,  nor  yet  with  persuading  her  to  deposit  that 
increase  under  my  bed." 

"  Poor  pussy !  she  looks  upon  your  room,  Cousin 
Barnaby,  as  her  special  stronghold.  The  dogs  never 
go  In  there,  and  she  feels  that  her  little  family  is 
safe." 

"  Well !  I  have  had  the  little  family  swept  up  into  a 
basket  and  ordered  Susan  to  deliver  them  over  to  Top- 
coat, with  strict  injunctions  to  drown  the  lot." 

"  You  haven't  done  that,  Barnaby  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  I  have,  and  if  Topcoat  knows  his  business 
the  drowning  will  have  been  effectually  done  by  now." 

"Oh!" 

When  Aunt  Caroline  was  speechless  it  meant  that 
she  was  very  indignant  indeed.  She  was  quite  speech- 
less now,  even  though  a  few  words  did  appear  to  be 
struggling  upwards,  out  of  her  heart,  and  perished  in 
the  attempt.  She  collected  all  the  socks  and  stockings 
into  her  basket,  put  down  her  needle  and  her  thimble, 
and,  still  unable  to  speak,  she  flounced  out  of  the  room, 
to  find  Susan  and  Topcoat  —  Topcoat  was  the  out- 
door man,  the  one  who  swept  the  gutters,  and  kept  the 
yard  tidy,  and  attended  to  the  horse  and  the  wag- 
gonette. 

If  Topcoat  had  drowned  the  entire  family  of  kit- 
tens without  asking  Aunt  Caroline's  permission  and 
merely  at  the  bidding  of  Barnaby  Crabtree,  well  then 
Topcoat  should  be  told  that  he  was  no  longer  a  serv- 
ant of  Mr.  Hemlngford,  and  that  the  sooner  he  and 
his  wife  packed  up  their  belongings  and  engaged  them- 
selves as  servants  to  Mr.  Crabtree  the  better  pleased 
would  Mrs.  Hemlngford  be. 


A  CAPRICIOUS  TYRANT  63 

But  then  Topcoat  had  not  drowned  the  entire  family 
of  kittens. 

Still  he  got  his  scolding  just  the  same :  it  would 
serve  for  another  time,  when  he  would  be  sure  to 
deserve  it. 


CHAPTER  VI 

A   WILD    FIGURE    OF    A    GIRL 

When  Aunt  Caroline  sailed  indignantly  out  of  the 
room  Cousin  Barnaby  was  not  in  the  least  disturbed. 
He  may,  perhaps,  have  been  slightly  vexed  at  her  thus 
quitting  him  summarily  when  he  had  at  least  two  more 
grievances  to  put  before  her  —  such  as  the  noise  which 
her  guinea-fowls  made  in  the  early  morning,  a  noise 
not  unlike  that  of  a  blunt  saw  going  through  knotty 
wood,  and  which  prevented  his  enjoying  the  quietude 
of  early  morning  sleep. 

"  But,"  he  remarked  placidly,  after  the  door  had 
closed  upon  Aunt  Caroline,  "  I  am  not  a  man  who 
often  complains.  I  came  here  for  peace  —  and  all 
that  I  want  is  peace." 

Uncle  Jasper  was  now  once  more  deeply  absorbed 
in  his  book  and  wholly  unconscious  of  everything  that 
went  on  around  him.  Barnaby  Crabtree,  though  he 
greatly  objected  to  self-absorption  in  anybody  —  see- 
ing that  people  who  were  self-absorbed  could  not  at- 
tend to  him  —  knew  that  it  was  no  use  trying  to  drag 
Jasper's  absent  mind  away  from  his  books. 

The  afternoon,  too,  had  turned  very  close.  There 
certainly  was  thunder  in  the  air,  for  Barnaby  had  a 
slight  headache  and  a  disturbed  stomach,  and  he 
always  knew  that  there  was  thunder  in  the  air  when 
he  had  a  disturbed  stomach. 

64 


A  WILD  FIGURE  OF  A  GIRL  '65 

He  proceeded  now  to  untie  his  neckcloth,  and  from 
his  pocket  he  took  a  large,  many-coloured  bandana 
handkerchief.  He  shook  it  out  and  then  spread  it 
over  his  head,  and  finally  folded  his  hands  in  front  of 
him. 

•*  Half  an  hour,"  he  murmured  behind  the  folds  of 
the  handkerchief.  "  I  will  compose  myself.  I  trust 
that  Caroline  will  have  the  good  sense  not  to  come  and 
disturb  me  again  about  those  damnable  kittens. 
Females  are  so  unreasonable  where  increases  in  fami- 
lies are  concerned." 

He  went  on  muttering  like  this  for  quite  a  consider- 
able time,  but  Uncle  Jasper,  of  course,  was  quite  un- 
conscious of  him  and  of  his  mutterings.  He  went  on 
reading,  and  Cousin  Barnaby  sought  refreshment  in 
a  little  sleep. 

The  whole  house  became  quite  still,  lulled  into 
drowsiness  by  the  closeness  of  the  atmosphere.  In 
the  museum  only  Cousin  Barnaby's  snores  were  heard 
or  the  droning  of  blue-bottles  against  the  small  win- 
dow-panes, and  at  regular  intervals  the  flutter  of  paper 
when  Uncle  Jasper  turned  over  a  leaf  of  his  book. 

Suddenly  this  quietude  was  disturbed.  From  the 
yard  there  came  the  sound  of  a  man's  voice,  raised 
angrily  and  insistently. 

Cousin  Barnaby  awoke,  and  from  behind  his  hand- 
kerchief he  asked  with  great  indignation: 

"What  in  thunder  is  that?" 

Then,  as  he  received  no  reply  to  his  peremptory 
question  —  which,  by  the  way,  he  repeated  at  least 
twice  —  he  tore  the  handkerchief  from  his  face  and 
shouted  at  the  top  of  his  voice : 


66  MEADOWSWEET 

"Jasper!  Did  you  hear  me  ask  what  in  thunder 
was  that  disturbing  noise?" 

"  I  heard  nothing,  Barnaby,"  said  Uncle  Jasper. 

"Nothing?  Am  I  deaf,  Jasper,  or  am  I  a  begad 
idiot?" 

"  Ego  cogito !  "  murmured  Uncle  Jasper,  "  I  am 
wondering." 

But  outside  the  voice  had  become  even  more  loud 
and  more  peremptory.  It  was  a  man's  voice  • —  seem- 
ingly a  young  man's  voice  —  and  certainly  it  meant  to 
make  itself  heard  and  its  owner  to  be  obeyed. 

"  Do  I  or  do  I  not  hear  a  most  disturbing  noise?  " 
queried  Cousin  Barnaby  triumphantly. 

Uncle  Jasper  felt  very  worried  and  very  nervous. 
He  hated  such  interruptions,  which,  fortunately,  were 
very  rare  at  Old  Manor  Farm,  and  hated  them  still 
more  when  they  came  from  the  yard,  for  this  gener- 
ally meant  that  presently  somebody  would  be  knock- 
ing at  the  door  of  the  museum,  and  probably  would 
want  to  come  in.  It  was  therefore  specially  distress- 
ing at  this  moment  to  hear  that  tiresome  voice  outside 
saying  peremptorily: 

"  I  tell  you,  man,  that  I  must  speak  with  Mr.  Hem- 
ingf ord  at  once !  " 

Fortunately  Aunt  Caroline,  who  had  been  adminis- 
tering the  above-mentioned  scolding  to  Topcoat,  had 
lingered  for  awhile  in  the  yard,  examining  the  chickens 
and  also  the  cart  shed,  and  other  places  where  untidi- 
ness might  find  a  home,  and  a  reproof  be  needed, 
which  she  might  just  as  well  administer  since  she  was 
on  the  spot. 

She  it  was'  now  who  came  forward,  and  it  was  to 


A  WILD  FIGURE  OF  A  GIRL  6y 

Her  apparently  that  the  voice  of  the  unknown  young 
man  now  addressed  himself. 

"  I  beg  ten  thousand  pardons,  ma'am,"  it  was  heard 
to  say  agitatedly,  "  for  this  seeming  intrusion,  but  a 
young  girl's  life  is  in  peril.  I  ran  here  to  get  imme- 
diate assistance,  but  your  man  seemed  not  to  under- 
stand." 

"Good  heavens! "  Aunt  Caroline  was  heard  to  ex- 
claim. "  What  is  it  ?  Do  come  in,  I  beg,  sir  —  just 
under  the  porch  —  yes,  that's  it !  The  door  is  on  the 
latch.     Mr.  Hemingford  is  there." 

And  the  next  moment  a  young  man  stepped  hur- 
riedly into  the  room.  Of  course.  Uncle  Jasper 
dropped  his  book  —  he  always  did  when  he  was  dis- 
turbed—  and  equally,  of  course,  Cousin  Barnaby 
grunted  with  dissatisfaction. 

Aunt  Caroline  had  bustled  in  after  the  young  man, 
administering  a  final  scolding  from  the  porch  to  Top- 
coat for  having  parleyed  so  long  with  a  gentleman 
who  evidently  was  in  a  great  hurry. 

The  young  man  in  the  meanwhile  had  saluted  Uncle 
Jasper  and  Barnaby  Crabtree.  Apparently  he  was 
very  excited,  for  his  good-looking  face  was  flushed  and 
he  did  not  trouble  to  speak  the  polite  words  which  the 
usages  of  society  would  demand  of  a  stranger  who 
was  thus  making  intrusion  in  another  gentleman's 
house.  At  once  he  began  talking  volubly,  and  paying 
no  attention  to  Mr.  Crabtree,  who  had  muttered 
audibly : 

"  This  man  is  a  begad  fool !  " 

"  Sir,  Madam,"  said  the  stranger  excitedly,  "  I  beg 
of  you  both  to  pardon  my  unwelcome  appearance  here. 


68  MEADOWSWEET 

Let  me  tell  you  what  happened :  I  was  walking  along 
the  lane,  having  come  up  from  Minster  and  being  on 
my  way  to  Ramsgate,  and  just  as  I  was  going  past 
your  gates  a  young  girl  darted  right  across  the  road 
in  front  of  me.  She  was  so  quick  and  so  nimble  on 
her  feet  that  I  followed  her  movements  with  much  in- 
terest. Suddenly,  even  before  I  realised  what  she  was 
doing,  she  climbed  like  a  cat  up  an  old  elm  tree,  and 
thence  on  to  the  sloping  roof  of  a  barn  which  abuts 
on  this  house.  The  roof  is  a  thatched  one,  and  its 
angle  very  acute.  She  may  lose  her  footing  any 
moment,  and — •'* 

Even  as  he  spoke,  and  before  the  next  word  escaped 
his  lips,  there  was  a  terrific  crash,  followed  by  the 
noise  of  broken  glass,  all  of  which  appeared  to  pro- 
ceed from  the  loft  at  the  end  of  the  museum.  The 
young  man's  face  became  pale  with  fright  and  Aunt 
Caroline  gave  one  wild  scream. 

"  The  child !  "  and  fell  back,  half  fainting,  against 
the  back  of  the  sofa,  to  which  she  clung  now  with 
one  trembling  hand,  whilst  with  the  other  she  picked 
up  the  corner  of  her  apron  and  fanned  herself  with  it 
vigorously. 

Cousin  Barnaby  in  the  meanwhile  had  lost  his  bal- 
ance; the  impact  of  Aunt  Caroline's  body  against  the 
sofa  had  caused  him  to  roll  off  it,  like  a  big  indiarub- 
ber  ball,  on  to  the  floor. 

Everyone  was  dumbfounded,  and  even  Uncle  Jas- 
per realised  that  there  was  something  wrong,  for  he 
ran  very  quickly  down  the  library  steps  and  stopped 
short  at  the  bottom,  his  pointed  knees  shaking  one 
against  the  other. 


A  WILD  FIGURE  OF  A  GIRi:  69 

After  the  crash  there  had  been  an  ominous,  silence 
in  the  loft,  and  the  young  stranger,  who  was  the  first 
to  regain  his  presence  of  mind,  had,  with  a  curt 
"  Allow  me !  "  made  his  way  to  the  wooden  stairs  that 
led  up  to  it,  when  a  girl's  voice  suddenly  rang  out, 
triumphant  and  clear: 

"  Got  you !  —  got  you !  Shoo !  —  shoo !  Go  away ! 
Mine !  —  mine !     Got  him !     Go  away ! '' 

The  next  moment  the  door  of  the  loft  was  thrown 
violently  open,  and  a  young  girl's  form  appeared  for 
one  second  on  the  top  of  the  rickety  wooden  steps. 
She  was  dressed  in  something  white  that  fluttered 
round  her  legs  owing  to  the  draught  from  behind. 
Her  head  was  bare,  but  a  wealth  of  brown  hair  flew 
all  around  it  in  a  tangled  mass  of  waves  and  curls. 
She  was  looking  at  something  above  and  behind  her, 
and  in  her  two  hands  clasped  in  front  of  her  she 
seemed  to  be  holding  something  which  she  was  en- 
deavouring to  protect.  Only  for  one  instant  did  she 
stand  there,  white  and  wild,  like  a  woodland  fairy; 
the  next  she  had  striven  to  run  down  the  steps,  had 
missed  her  footing,  and  come  tumbling  down  the 
rickety  flight,  landing  on  the  floor  with  feet  out- 
stretched, hair  dishevelled,  one  shoe  flying  halfway 
across  the  room,  and  a  piece  of  her  skirt  remaining 
fastened  to  a  protruding  nail  on  the  steps. 

"  God  help  us  all  I  "  shrieked  Aunt  Caroline ;  "  the 
child  has  killed  herself!" 

As  if  to  belie  these  words  then  and  there,  the  young 
girl  burst  into  a  prolonged  fit  of  laughter. 

She  laughed  and  laughed  until  every  dark  oak  beam 
shook  with  the  echo  of  that  whole-hearted  mirth. 


70  MEADOWSWEET 

"  Bless  all  your  hearts !  I  am  not  killed !  "  she  said,  as 
soon  as  she  was  able  to  speak,  which  was  not  for  some 
time,  as  laughter  took  away  her  breath.  "  How 
scared  you  all  look  —  and  there's  Cousin  Barnaby  go- 
ing to  have  a  fit !  " 

And  truly  Cousin  Barnaby  did  present  a  most  piti- 
able spectacle.  He  had  been  scared  out  of  his  wits 
after  being  roused  from  placid  slumbers,  and  his  yel- 
.lowish  complexion  was  blotched  with  purple,  whilst 
his  pale-coloured  eyes  seemed  to  be  starting  out  of  his 
head. 

"  And  I  who  came  here  for  peace !  "  he  said,  as  he 
groaned  aloud,  and  looked  with  unmitigated  disgust 
at  the  wild,  dishevelled  figure  still  sitting  with  out- 
stretched legs  and  shoeless  feet  on  the  floor. 

"The  fright  you  gave  us,  Boadicea!  "  sighed  Aunt 
Caroline,  who  had  not  yet  recovered  her  evenness  of 
mind. 

"  The  bumps  I  gave  myself !  "  retorted  the  young 
girl,  still  laughing.     "  By  George,  but  I  do  feel  sore !  " 

She  picked  herself  up  rather  slowly,  and  holding  one 
hand  to  her  hip,  which,  indeed,  must  have  ached  con- 
siderably. She  looked  a  little  wide-eyed  and  pale, 
though  she  would  not  admit  that  she  was  hurt,  and  in 
the  other  hand  she  still  held  against  her  breast  that 
which  she  seemed  desirous  to  protect. 

As  the  stranger  stood  back  toward  the  door,  she  had 
not  yet  seen  him;  but  he  was  watching  her  with  con- 
siderable amusement,  for,  indeed,  she  looked  a  wild 
figure  of  a  girl  with  her  brown  hair  flying  in  all  direc- 
tions, her  skirt  torn,  and  her  stockings  full  of  holes. 

Indeed,  now  that  she  was  standing  up,  she  pre- 


A  WILD  FIGURE  OF  A  GIRL  71 

sented  rather  a  woebegone  appearance.  Her  face  Was 
scratched  and  smeared  with  black  and  her  hands  were 
covered  with  grey  dust. 

"  But  where  have  you  been  ?  "  exclaimed  Aunt  Caro- 
line, with  as  much  sternness  as  she  could  command. 

*'  I'll  tell  you,"  began  the  girl,  talking  excitedly  and 
volubly,  and  turning  deliberately  to  Uncle  Jasper. 
"  You  remember,  Uncle,  that  short-eared  owl  you  and 
I  saw  on  the  top  of  Farmer  Upchin's  barn  an  evening 
or  two  ago  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes ! "  said  Uncle  Jasper,  whose  wrinkled, 
birdlike  face  had  lighted  up  at  mention  of  the  memor- 
able event.  "  Yes,  yes !  The  Strix  brachyotus,  or 
short-eared  owl." 

"  Well,"  she  continued  eagerly,  "  now  I  knew  there 
must  be  a  nest  of  them  somewhere.  I  thought  you 
would  like  the  eggs." 

"Yes,  yes!-" 

"  So  I  got  them ;  but,  by  George,  I  did  have  a  tear  • 
round  I " 

"  A  tear  round ! "  groaned  Cousin  Barnaby. 
"  Look  at  her  stockings !  " 

"  My  dear  child !  "  exclaimed  Aunt  Caroline,  horri- 
fied. 

But  Miss  Boadicea,  wholly  unconcerned,  looked 
down  calmly  on  her  shapely  feet  and  ankles  encased 
in  coarse  cotton  stockings,  through  which  her  great; 
toe  peeped  out  unblushingly. 

"  Ever  seen  a  great  toe  before.  Cousin  Barnaby?" 
she  said,  as  she  suddenly  held  up  her  foot  right  under 
Mr.  Crabtree's  nose. 

"  Don't  do  that ! "  he  shouted,  for  Indeed  he  was 


>j2  MEADOWSWEEX 

yery  furious,  &nd  we  must  admit  that  He  had  every 
cause  to  be  exceedingly  vexed,  since  he  had  come  to 
Old  Manor  Farm  for  peace,  and  this  June  afternoon 
had  been  the  scene  of  quite  a  number  of  disturbances. 

"But  the  eggs,  child?"  said  Uncle  Jasper,  with 
quite  a  show  of  eagerness  and  impatience;  "  have  you 
got  the  eggs  ?  " 

"  Hm  —  hm !  "  nodded  Boadicea  in  response.  "  I 
climbed  on  to  Upchin's  barn  after  Mother  Owl.  She 
flew  off.  I  scrambled  down  and  then  on  to  the  pop- 
lars after  her.  But,  Uncle  Jasper,  where  do  you  think 
the  nest  was  ?  " 

Well,  my  dear?" 

In  our  loft  —  just  under  the  thatch  by  the  sky- 
light! Oh,  I  had  a  scramble  for  it,  I  can  tell  you! 
The  thatch  was  so  slippery  after  all  this  dry  weather. 
I  slid  now  up,  now  down.  Scratched  my  knees,  too ! 
I  tell  you.  Mother  Owl  was  furious.  She  knew  I  was 
after  her  nest.  But  I  got  it  at  last  —  when,  bang!  I 
slid  down  again  —  this  time  on  to  the  skylight,  and 
through  I  went  with  a  crash ! " 

She  was  quite  breathless,  for  she  had  talked  very 
fast,  undisturbed  by  Cousin  Barnaby's  groans  of  dis- 
gust and  Aunt  Caroline's  exclamations  of  horror. 
Now  she  paused  a  moment,  and  her  face  assumed  an 
expression  of  pride  and  of  triumph. 

"  But  I've  got  the  eggs  for  you.  Uncle  Jasper,"  she 
said. 

And  she  looked  down  upon  the  precious  thing  which 
she  was  still  holding  to  her  breast.  Suddenly  as  she 
looked  the  expression  of  triumph  fled  from  her  face, 
a  look  of  dismay  spread  all  over  it. 


A  WILD  FIGURE  OF  A  GIRi:  73 

"  Yes,  child,  the  eggs  ? "  said  Uncle  Jasper  ex- 
citedly. 

A  tangled  bundle  of  brickdust  and  mortar,  of  twigs 
and  dried  grass,  together  with  fragments  of  some- 
thing white  and  a  yellowish  liquid,  fell  in  a  heap;  on 
the  floor. 

"  They  are  smashed ! "  she  exclaimed,  as  her  eyes 
filled  with  tears  and  her  arm  dropped  down  to  her 
side. 

"  Scrambled  eggs ! "  remarked  Cousin  Barnaby 
placidly. 

He  really  did  enjoy  her  disappointment. 

"  Smashed?  "  cried  Uncle  Jasper  in  a  piping  treble, 
for  he  was  truly  horrified  at  the  awful  calamity;  "  no, 
no,  child,  not  smashed  ?  " 

And  while  Boadicea  nodded  ruefully  he  was  down 
on  his  knees  turning  over  the  remains  of  the  destroyed 
nest,  trying  to  find  some  fragment  at  least  large 
enough  to  preserve. 

"  No,  not  smashed,"  remarked  Cousin  Barnaby, 
who  knew  how  to  be  sarcastic ;  "  eggs  are  usually  much 
improved  by  being  hurled  six  feet  through  a  skylight." 

"  I  am  so  sorry,  Uncle !  "  murmured  Boadicea. 

She  looked  so  conscience-stricken  and  with  it  all  so 
quaint  and  funny  in  her  torn  skirt  and  stockings  that 
the  young  stranger  —  who  hitherto  had  politely  kept 
in  the  background  —  betrayed  his  presence  now  by  a 
loud  and  genuine  outburst  of  laughter. 

Boadicea  quickly  looked  round,  and,  seeing  him 
thus  laughing  whilst  trying  to  regain  his  composure 
under  her  stern  eye,  she  gazed  on  him  for  awhile  in 
mute  astonishment.     Then  she  said  curtly : 


74  MEADOWSWEET 

"Who  is  he?" 

At  her  words  everyone  Seemed  suddenly  to  become 
aware  of  the  stranger.  Aunt  Caroline,  very  flustered, 
hastily  smoothed  down  her  apron  and  put  her  hands 
to  her  head  to  see  if  her  cap  were  on  straight. 

"  Indeed,  child,"  she  said,  "  your  wild  mischief 
makes  us  forget  our  manners." 

She  turned  to  the  young  man,  and  bobbed  him  an 
old-fashioned  curtsey. 

"Sir?  .  .  ."  she  said,  half  interrogatively. 

"  Lieutenant  Carrington,  of  H.MS.  Dolphin/'  he 
replied,  standing  very  upright  and  giving  Aunt  Caro- 
line a  real  naval  salute,  "  at  your  service,  Madam !  " 

"  Lieutenant  Carrington !  "  exclaimed  Aunt  Caro- 
line. "  Not  Mamie  Carrington's  son  ?  Mamie  who 
was  Mary  Janet  Culverston?" 

"  My  dear  mother,"  said  the  young  man. 

"  Mamie's  son !  —  Mamie's  son !  "  reiterated  Aunt 
Caroline,  as  with  scant  ceremony  she  placed  her  podgy 
hands  on  the  young  lieutenant's  shoulders  and  drew 
him  down  until  she  could  plant  a  kiss  on  both  his 
cheeks.  "  Right  welcome  you  are,  sir,  for  your  dear 
mother's  sake!  She'll  have  told  you  about  me,  I 
know.  Caroline  Pettigrew  I  was  before  I  married 
Jasper  Hemingf ord.  Mamie's  son,  to  be  sure !  Why, 
you  were  a  mere  lad  when  I  saw  you  last  at  Crack- 
mansthorpe.     My  1  how  you  have  grown  since  then ! 

"  And  this  is  Mr.  Hemingford,"  she  continued  with 
eager  volubility,  and  waved  one  hand  toward  Uncle 
Jasper  and  the  other  toward  the  young  man.  "  Lieu- 
tenant Carrington,  Jasper,  of  H.M.S.  Dolphin;  my 
friend  Mamie  Carrington's  son.     You  remember  her; 


A  WILD  FIGURE  OF  A  GIRL  75 

she  was  one  of  my  bridesmaids.  And  you  remember 
Mr.  Hemingford,  I  am  sure,  Lieutenant  Carrington." 

"Jack  you  must  call  me,  Mrs.  Hemingford, 
please !  "  said  he. 

"  Then  Jack  it  shall  be ! "  rejoined  she,  blushing 
with  pleasure.  "  You  remember  Uncle  Jasper,  don't 
you?" 

"Remember  Uncle  Jasper?  Why,  of  course  I 
do!" 

And  he  shook  Uncle  Jasper  cordially  and  very  vig- 
orously by  the  hand,  whilst  Uncle  Jasper,  rather 
absent,  and  certainly  vague  as  to  who  the  young  man 
was  and  Who  was  Mamie  Carrington,  murmured  pleas- 
ing "  How  de  do's  ?  "  and  declared  how  well  he  re- 
membered. 

"  By  gad !  "  said  Lieutenant  Carrington  gaily,  "  I 
remember  this  museum  perfectly  now.  Though  I 
only  was  brought  here  once  in  my  nurse's  arms, 
I  thought  it  then  the  most  wonderful  spot  on  earth  — 
in  fact,  it  was  my  idea  of  heaven  in  those  days." 

"  It  is  my  idea  of  a  rubbish  heap  now,"  grunted 
Cousin  Barnaby,  who  thought  it  was  fully  time  some- 
one paid  attention  to  himself. 

"And  this,"  said  Aunt  Caroline,  politely  turning 
toward  him,  "  is  our  cousin,  Barnaby  Crabtree,  who 
is  paying  us  a  short  visit." 

"  Your  servant,  sir !  "  said  the  lieutenant. 

"  And  now,"  continued  Aunt  Caroline,  "  I  hope 
that  you  find  yourself  quite  at  home,  sir." 

"  You  are  too  kind,  Mrs.  Hemingford,"  said  he. 

"  I  don't  know  where  you  lodge,  sir  —  I  mean 
Jack,"  said  she. 


76  MEADOWSWEET 

"  On  board  the  Dolphin,  Madam." 

"  At  any  rate,  then,  I  hope  that  you  will  give  us  the 
pleasure  of  sharing  our  homely  supper  with  us  to- 
night." 

"  I'll  be  greatly  honoured,  Mrs.  Hemingford,"  said 
he,  making  her  an  elegant  bow. 

"  Then  you'll  excuse  me,  sir  —  I  mean  Jack  —  I'll 
tell  my  niece  Lady  Jeffreys  that  you  are  here." 

She  had  made  this  remark  quite  casually,  having 
for  the  moment  forgotten  that  Boadicea  had  been 
absent  all  the  day,  and  knew  nothing  of  her  sister's 
arrival;  and  she  was  calmly  sailing  toward  the  door 
when  the  young  girl  was  after  her  like  a  whirlwind, 

"Olive!"  she  cried,  "Olive  here,  Aunt?  Where 
is  she?  When  did  she  come?  Why  didn't  you  tell 
me  she  was  here?    Where  is  she?     I'll  go  tell  her! " 

And  she  made  impetuously  for  the  door.  But  Aunt 
Caroline  restrained  her,  putting  on  her  most  stern  and 
most  commanding  manner. 

"  No,  no,  child ;  not  just  now,"  she  Said.  "  Olive  h 
dressing,  I  think,  and  you  know  that  she  always  hated 
being  disturbed  whilst  she  was  so  engaged.  And  I 
should  hate  her  to  see  you  in  this  state,  too ;  she  looks 
so  lovely  herself  —  and  you,  child,  you  look  a  perfect 


savage." 


"  I  have  always  maintained  that  she  is  a  begad  sav- 
age," grunted  Cousin  Barnaby,  who  had  no  love  for 
little  Boadicea. 

The  child  hung  her  head  now,  looking  very  penitent. 
Her  sister  Olive  was  the  great  love  of  her  lonely  life. 
She  had  a  passionate  admiration  for  the  dainty  and 
exquisite  sister,  who  had  gone  out  of  her  life,  even  at 


A  WILD  FIGURE  OF  A  GIRL  ^y^ 

the  time  that  she  herself  was  emerging  out  of  girl- 
hood. Just  for  the  moment  she  felt  ashamed  of  her 
torn  clothes  and  ragged  stockings,  and  would  have 
liked  to  hide  herself  somewhere,  so  that  Olive  should 
not  see  her  until  she  was  more  tidy. 

"  Wait  a  moment  here,"  said  Aunt  Caroline,  "  and 
I'll  see  where  Olive  is.  If  she  is  in  her  room  dress- 
ing, as  I  think  she  may  be,  you  can  slip  quietly  up- 
stairs and  smooth  your  hair  and  change  your  dress, 
so  that  you  may  look  your  best  when  she  first  sees 
you.  Don't  cry  now,  that's  silly!"  she  added  in  a 
very  low  whisper,  as  she  saw  that  Boadicea  was  on  the 
verge  of  tears.  "  Lieutenant  Carrington  is  looking  at 
you." 

"  Caroline,"  came  in  reproachful  accents  from 
Cousin  Barnaby,  "  are  you  forgetting  that  this  is  the 
hour  for  my  glass  of  bitters?  I  shall  have  no  appe- 
tite for  supper  if  you  neglect  me  like  this.  Not  that 
I  ever  complain;  but  really  I  don't  see  why  the  pres- 
ence of  a  stranger  should  thus  make  you  forget  your 
most  elementary  duties  to  me."' 

"  Oh,  come  along,  then.  Cousin  Barnaby ! "  said 
Aunt  Caroline  with  some  impatience.  "  I  had  for- 
gotten you,  it's  true;  but  Susan  will  have  put  the 
bitters  on  the  parlour  table.  Come  along,  then  — 
and  you,  child,  wait  just  five  minutes,  and  then  make 
no  noise  as  you  slip  upstairs." 

After  which  Aunt  Caroline,  with  a  final  "  I  pray 
you  to  excuse  me,  sir  —  I  mean  Jack/'  went  out  of 
th^  room,  followed  by  Cousin  Barnaby. 


CHAPTER  VII 

A   LITTLE   FURY   OF    WRATH 

'Aunt  Caroline's  high-pitched  tones  and  Cousin 
Barnaby's  loud-voiced  grumbhngs  were  heard  dying 
away  across  the  oak-panelled  hall  and  then  in  the  small 
parlour  which  lay  on  the  left. 

In  the  museum  where  a  little  while  ago  there  had 
been  so  much  noise,  so  much  bustle  and  also  such  loud 
laughter,  there  now  reigned  absolute  silence. 

Uncle  Jasper,  quite  happy  that  for  the  moment 
neither  his  wife  nor  his  Cousin  Barnaby  were  likely 
to  disturb  him,  had  incontinently  clambered  up  hisi 
favourite  perch,  and  crossing  one  lean  leg  over  the 
other,  he  had  propped  up  his  book  on  his  bent  knee 
and  was  once  more  absorbed  in  the  wonders  of 
science. 

Boadicea  —  when  Aunt  Caroline  and  Cousin  Barn- 
aby had  gone  —  remained  standing  beside  the  door, 
with  her  back  to  the  rest  of  the  room,  which,  you  will 
say,  was  not  polite,  seeing  that  Lieutenant  Carring- 
ton  was  there  and  he  a  guest  in  the  house.  But  I 
think  that  for  the  moment  Boadicea  had  forgotten  his 
presence.  She  was  thinking  only  of  Olive  and  of  the 
joy  that  would  come  to  her  presently,  when  she  could 
embrace  the  dear  beautiful  sister,  and  hear  from  her 
all  about  her  triumphs  in  London  society,  and  admire 

78 


A  LITTLE  FURY  OF  WRATH  79 

all  her  lovely  "dresses,  and  her  jewels  of  which  the  wife 
of  Sir  Baldwin  Jeffreys  had,  of  course,  a  good 
number. 

Boadicea  was  only  thinking  of  Olive,  and  straining 
her  ears  to  hear  Aunt  Caroline's  footsteps  going  up- 
stairs, and  the  opening  and  closing  of  a  door,  which 
would  be  the  signal  for  her  to  make  her  escape,  and  to 
creep  to  her  room,  there  to  wash  her  face  and  hands 
and  generally  make  herself  look  less  like  a  savage, 
and  more  pleasing  to  Olive. 

"  Can't  I  get  you  a  chair  ?  " 

Boadicea  turned  round  very  sharply :  her  mind  was 
so  full  of  Olive  that  she  was  quite  startled  when  she 
found  herself  face  to  face  with  a  young  gentleman, 
whom  she  hardly  knew,  and  who  was  smiling  at  her 
now  in  an  amused  kind  of  way  which  she  did  not  like 
at  all.  It  was  he  who  had  offered  to  get  her  a  chair, 
and  now  he  said  quite  kindly : 

"You  must  be  so  tired  after  your  prowess  just 
now,  and  I  have  an  idea  that  you  must  have  hurt 
yourself  when  you  fell  down  those  stairs." 

"  I  am  not  hurt,"  she  said  curtly. 

"  Perhaps  only  bruised,"  he  went  on,  still  smiling. 
"By  gad!  I  thought  you'd  have  killed  yourself  when 
you  jumped  from  that  elm  on  to  a  sloping  roof. 
Scrums,  little  one,  it  was  a  jump,  eh?  " 

She  looked  straight  at  him  then,  for  his  tone  did  not 
seem  so  sarcastic  as  before:  and  as  she  looked,  she 
encountered  a  pair  of  grey  eyes  which  twinkled  with 
merriment,  as  well  as  with  intense  good-nature,  and 
also  with  boyish  enthusiasm  at  the  recollection  of  her 
feat. 


8o  MEADOWSWEET 


(f 


I  suppose  I  did  give  you  a  fright,"  she  said. 

He  nodded  in  response :  and  suddenly  for  no  reason 
whatever,  she  felt  her  blood  rushing  up  to  her  cheeks 
causing  them  to  glow  with  heat.  She  was  very  angry 
with  herself  for  this,  and  still  more  so  for  the  feeling 
of  shyness  which  suddenly  possessed  her.  However, 
she  was  not  going  to  let  this  young  man  see  that  she 
was  shy,  nor  think  that  her  blushing  cheeks  had  any- 
thing to  do  with  the  twinkling  look  in  his  eyes. 

"  I  saw  you,"  she  said  as  curtly  as  before,  "  from 
the  elm.     I  could  see  that  you  were  scared." 

"  I  would  have  climbed  the  elm  after  you,"  he  re- 
joined, "  but  you  were  as  agile  as  a  cat,  and  I  feared 
that  I  would  do  more  harm  than  good." 

He  talked  to  her  lightly  and  gaily  as  one  does  to  a 
child,  and  his  grey  eyes  travelled  from  time  to  time 
over  her  torn  frock  and  her  dusty  hands,  and  after 
they  had  done  so  they  again  rested  on  her  face,  and 
she  then  felt  that  the  blush  in  her  cheeks  deepened 
because  the  twinkle  in  his  eyes  became  more  pro- 
nounced. 

"  I  suppose  that  you  think  me  a  savage,  too,"  she 
said  defiantly. 

**  I  think  that  you  are  a  very  foolhardy  and  very 
naughty  child,"  he  replied,  and  just  for  a  moment 
merriment  died  out  of  his  face,  and  it  looked  earnest, 
whilst  his  voice  sounded  quite  stern, 

"  I  am  not  a  child,"  she  retorted. 

"What  else?" 

"  Miss  Aldmarshe,"  said  she,  trying  to  look  very 
dignified. 

But  at  this  earnestness  fled  quickly  from  his  face, 


A  LITTLE  FURY  OF  WRATH  8i 

and  back  came  the  merry  smile  round  the  clean-shaved 
lips,  and  that  amused  twinkle  in  the  grey  eyes. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said  politely. 

"  Or  Miss  Boadicea,"  she  conceded. 

*'  Queen  of  ancient  Britain!  " 

And  he  made  her  a  deep  bow,  in  the  old-fashioned 
style,  putting  out  his  hand  that  she  might  rest  hers 
upon  it.  She  was  about  to  do  so,  when  looking  down 
upon  her  hand  —  already  extended  toward  him  —  she 
saw  that  it  was  very  dirty,  and  covered  with  the  con- 
tents of  an  owl's  egg. 

"Wants  washing — ^eh,  your  majesty?"  he  re- 
marked with  that  irritating  pleasing  humour  of  his, 
when  he  saw  her  look  of  dismay,  and  the  quick  with- 
drawal of  the  grimy  little  hand. 

This  time  she  felt  an  angry  flush  rising  to  the  very 
roots  of  her  hair. 

"  Well !  "  she  said  sullenly,  "  I  suppose  that  a  sav- 
age —  even  a  Queen  —  would  have  sticky  hands  some- 
times." 

"  Undoubtedly,"  he  replied. 

"  I  dare  say,"  she  continued  with  what  she  felt  and 
meant  to  be  biting  sarcasm,  "  I  dare  say  that  the 
young  ladies  whom  you  know  in  London  have  beauti- 
ful white  hands." 

"  Well,  usually!  "  he  admitted. 

"  And  you  like  to  take  their  hands  —  their  beautiful 
white  hands,"  she  said,  whilst  in  spite  of  herself  her 
voice  shook,  and  there  was  a  silly,  uncomfortable  little 
lump  in  her  throat,  she  would  have  given  worlds  to  be 
able  to  swallow,  "  and  would  be  ashamed  to  take  the 
hand  of  a  —  of  a  savage !  " 


B2  MEADOWSWEET 

"  By  gad ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  but  you  are  a  funny 
child  —  I!  ashamed  to  take  your  little  sticky  hands? 
—  not  I  —  give  me  both  of  them  —  there  —  at  once." 

And  he  held  out  his  hands,  and  looked  on  her  with 
great  kindliness :  he  was  very  fond  of  children  and  of 
young  animals,  and  this  quaint  girl  seemed  a  happy 
blend  of  both :  and  just  now  her  obvious  timidity,  that 
first  beginning  of  self-consciousness  which  only  comes 
when  the  child  has  become  a  woman,  rendered  her  ex- 
cessively winning  and  charrning  to  look  at. 

Having  imprisoned  both  her  small,  sticky  hands  in 
his  own  strong  ones,  he  drew  her  to  him  with  a  quick, 
masterful  gesture,  and  in  a  jovial,  brotherly  way  kissed 
her  heartily  on  both  cheeks. 

To  his  astonishment,  she  became  as  red  as  a  poppy 
and  then  equally  suddenly  all  the  blood  seemed  to 
leave  her  cheeks,  and  she  looked  frail  and  pale:  and 
then  heavy  tears  gathered  in  her  eyes. 

"  How  dare  you?  "  she  said  almost  viciously,  whilst 
with  all  her  might  she  tried  to  free  her  hands  from  his 
grasp.     "  How  dare  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  how  I  dare,"  he  rejoined  gaily 
laughing,  much  amused  at  her  indignation  and  at  her 
futile  efforts  to  rid  herself  of  him,  "  but  so  bold  am  I 
that  I'll  dare  again." 

And  again  he  kissed  her,  despite  her  struggles :  but 
now  her  head  was  bent  because  of  the  effort  which  she 
made,  and  thinking  to  kiss  her  cheeks  his  lips  en- 
countered her  soft,  round  neck. 

*'  How  dare  you?  "  she  cried  again  and  again,  "let 
me  go !  let  me  go !  —  I  hate  you !  " 

But  men  are  such  curious  beings.     In  the  best  of 


A  LITTLE  FURY  OF  WRATH  83 

them  there  Is  always  something  of  the  tyrant,  and  3. 
great  deal  of  the  Turkish  pasha.  Lieutenant  Car- 
rington  had  no  compunction  whatever  in  thus  teasing 
this  child.  She  was  only  a  child,  and  a  tomboy,  too, 
whom  he  had  seen  climbing  trees  and  sloping  roofs 
just  like  a  cat,  and  he  liked  to  hold  her  now,  while  she 
struggled,  just  in  the  same  way  as  he  would  imprison 
a  kitten  that  pleased  him,  and  wanted  to  get  away 
from  him. 

The  more  she  struggled,  the  more  gaily  did  he 
laugh,  the  more  she  showered  her  hatred  on  him,  the 
more  determined  was  he  to  snatch  yet  another  kiss  — 
to  punish  her  because  she  was  so  silly  and  shy,  and 
would  not  receive  his  brotherly  kiss  in  the  spirit  in 
which  he  meant  her  to  receive  it. 

And  whilst  they  were  struggling  like  this,  he  laugh- 
ing, she  almost  in  tears,  the  door  flew  open  and  beauti- 
ful Olive  Jeffreys  entered  the  room. 

For  a  moment  she  stood  quite  still,  and  I  assure  you 
that  just  then  her  expression  of  face  was  anything  but 
pleasant.  There  was  a  deep  furrow  between  her 
brows,  and  as  was  habitual  with  her  when  she  was 
vexed,  she  was  worrying  her  under  lip  with  her  teeth. 

But  her  general  appearance  was  very  beautiful,  for 
she  had  exchanged  her  emerald  silk  gown  for  one  en- 
tirely composed  of  shot  silk  in  colour  like  an  iridescent 
pearl,  neither  mauve  nor  rose,  nor  grey,  but  partaking 
of  all  these  delicate  tints,  and  with  a  satin  stripe  of 
pale  golden  yellow  running  down  the  delicate  fabric, 
and  tiny  bunches  of  pink  rosebuds  with  their  leaves 
scattered  here  and  there. 

Filmy  lace  veiled  the  edge  of  the  bodfce  and  blended 


84  MEADOWSWEET 

in  exquisite  harmony  with  the  tender  flesh  tones  of  her 
bosom.  Round  her  neck  she  wore  three  rows  of  per- 
fectly matched  pearls,  and  in  her  ears  she  had  long 
earrings  of  beautiful  gold  work  set  with  pearls. 

So  charming  an  apparition  was  she  that  in  a  mo- 
ment both  Miss  Aldmarshe  and  Lieutenant  Carring- 
ton  mutely  and  tacitly  called  a  cessation  of  hostilities.' 
He  dropped  her  wrists,  and  she  gave  a  quick  exclama- 
tion of  delight. 

[But  already  Lady  Jeffreys's  high-pitched  voice  had 
resounded  across  the  museum. 

"  Fie,  Lieutenant  Jack,"  she  said  reprovingly,  "  I 
pray  you  leave  the  child  alone!  See!  she  looks  of- 
fended like  a  bedraggled  chicken.  And  you  will  be 
disturbing  the  entire  household  by  making  her  howl." 

She  advanced  into  the  room  with  her  pretty,  minc- 
ing step,  toying  with  her  lace  fan  as  she  walked,  and 
anon  she  stood  before  the  two  young  people  who  I 
must  say  were  looking  somewhat  shamefaced. 

Boadicea,  still  as  red  as  a  poppy,  hung  her  head 
down  heartily  ashamed  thus  to  appear  after  all  before 
the  beautiful  sister,  having  wholly  forgotten  Aunt 
Caroline's  stern  admonition. 

Olive  gave  the  glowing  cheeks  a  kindly,  patronising 
tap  with  her  fan. 

"  There,  there,  child,"  she  said  with  a  light  laugh, 
"  do  not  look  so  scared.  Lieutenant  Carrington  was 
only  trying  to  frighten  you  —  he  really  does  not  care 
to  kiss  little  girls  —  or  even  to  look  at  them  —  eh, 
Jack?" 

And  she  turned  fully  towards  Lieutenant  Carring- 
ton, standing — quite  accidentally  I  have  no  doubt — • 


A  LITTLE  FURY  OF  WRATH  85 

quite  dose  to  her  sister,  her  daintily  bedecked  person 
in  charming  contrast  to  Boadicea's  tattered  appear- 
ance, her  beringed  and  well-trimmed  hands  looking 
almost  fairylike  beside  the  grimy,  sun-tanned  ones  of 
the  younger  girl. 

No  doubt  Lieutenant  Carrington  realised  the,  enor- 
mity of  his  offence,  the  sin  which  his  eyes  had  com- 
mitted by  resting  if  only  in  brotherly  kindness  and 
gentle  irony  on  any  woman,  save  the  most  beautiful 
amongst  all.  The  tone  of  familiarity  with  which 
Lady  Jeffreys  addressed  him,  showed  that  she  was 
well-acquainted  with  him,  and  now  he  turned  quite 
away  from  Boadicea  and  bowed  with  consummate  gal- 
lantry to  the  beautiful  lady,  just  as  he  would  to  the 
Queen,  if  she  happened  to  be  present. 

She  gave  him  the  tips  of  her  fingers  to  kiss,  and  this 
he  did,  having  previously  said  most  politely : 

"  When  the  sun  appears,  all  lesser  stars  must  neces- 
sarily pale." 

Certainly  the  lesser  star  —  if  by  that  appellation  he 
meant  Boadicea  —  had  paled  very  considerably.  The 
child  now  looked  white  and  sullen,  and  her  eyes 
watched  every  elegant  movement  of  Lieutenant  Car- 
rington, and  every  expression  of  his  face  with  a  glow- 
ering, wrathful  look.  How  differently  did  he  behave 
when  Olive  was  present,  how  courteous  was  his  man- 
ner, how  delicate  his  speech !  He  seemed  quite  a  dif- 
ferent man  to  the  easy-mannered,  boyish  fellow  -of  a 
while  ago,  with  his  laughing  eyes  and  sarcastic  lips. 

"  There,  little  one,"  said  Olive,  whose  melting 
glance  had  duly  rewarded  Lieutenant  Carrington  for 
his  gallantry,  "  what  did  I  tell  you.    He  was  only^ 


86  MEADOWSWEET 

teasing  you  —  as  he  would  have  teased  a  kitten  — 
without  any  ill-intention.  Come !  "  she  added,  seeing 
that  Boadicea  still  hung  her  head,  "  let  me  see  you 
smile.  Have  you  forgotten,  child,  that  twelve  months 
have  gone  by  since  last  you  saw  me  in  London  ?  Are 
you  then  not  pleased  to  see  me?  " 

But  at  this  appeal  Boadicea's  sulkiness  vanished,  she 
threw  her  arms  with  loving  impetuosity  round  the 
dainty  fonn  of  her  fair  sister. 

"  Pleased  ?  "  she  exclaimed,  "  Pleased  ?  Why, 
Olive,  I  have  been  nearly  crazy  with  joy,  since  I  heard 
that  ygu  were  here." 

Her  cheeks  were  once  more  aflame,  for  with  this 
child  who  had  never  been  taught  to  restrain  the  dis- 
play of  her  feelings,  the  blood  came  and  went  in  her 
cheeks,  just  as  emotion  carried  her  away  or  left  her 
cold.  Olive  had  great  difficulty  in  extricating  herself 
from  the  violent  embrace  and  in  rescuing  her  delicate 
coloured  gown  from  the  affectionate  pattings  of  eager, 
grimy  hands. 

"  Child !  child ! "  she  cried  somewhat  crossly,  for 
she  hated  the  harmony  of  her  attire  to  be  disarranged, 
"  not  so  fast,  and  not  so  furiously.  I  am  convinced 
of  the  depth  of  your  affection,  but  that  is  no  reason 
why  you  should  crush  my  gown.  It  cost  me  over 
thirty  guineas  last  week,  and  now  your  dirty  hands 
will  ruin  it  in  a  trice." 

In  a  moment  Boadicea's  enthusiasm  cooled  down. 
Her  arms  dropped  away  from  her  sister's  shoulders, 
and  she  looked  down  ruefully  at  her  grimy  hands. 

"  I  am  so  sorry,  Olive,"  she  murmured. 

"  There!  "  said  Olive  impatiently,  "  do  go  and  clean 


A  LITTLE  FURY  OF  WRATH  87 

yourself,  child.  You  look  like  a  little  savage  still, 
despite  your  growing  years,  and  I  must  say  that  you 
still  seem  to  behave  like  one.  Does  she  not,  Captain 
Jack?" 

"  No,  no,"  he  said  in  an  absent,  bored  kind  of  way, 
as  if  the  subject  had  no  interest  for  him.  "  Miss  — 
er  —  Miss  Boadicea  Aldmarshe  was  seriously  trying 
just  now  to  behave  like  a  young  lady." 

"  Behave  like  a  young  lady,"  retorted  the  young- 
girl,  with  a  wealth  of  scorn  expressed  in  the  quiet 
tremor  of  her  voice,  "Behave  like  a  young  lady? 
Not  I !  I  hate  your  simpering,  affected,  odious  young 
ladies  with  white  hands  and  chicken  livers.  I  can 
ride  an  unbroken  colt — -can  they?"  she  continued, 
gradually  working  herself  up  to  a  passion  of  con- 
tempt and  of  wrath,  her  voice  quivering,  sobs  gather- 
ing in  her  throat  and  tears  in  her  eyes.  "  I  can  sit  on 
a  bucker,  saddleless  and  bridleless,  and  not  lose  my 
seat  — ■  can  they  ?  I  can  handle  a  gun,  and  a  spade 
and  a  rake,  I  can  run  a  mile  without  losing  my  breath 
■ — can  they?  can  they?  I  ask  you!  Can  they  rise 
with  the  lark,  and  plunge  into  the  sea  and  swim  half 
way  to  France?  I  can.  But  no  doubt  you  admire 
their  silly,  mincing  ways,  their  '  Oh's '  and  their 
*Ah's'  and  their  'Fies'sM  Well,  I  do  notl  I  do 
not!  I  do  not!  I  would  not  be  like  them.  No! 
not  for  all  the  gowns  that  cost  thirty  guineas  and  for 
all  the  soft  speeches  and  hand-kissings  the  popinjays 
of  Pall  Mall  can  give  them! " 

Her  voice  now  was  almost  choked  with  tears  of  rage 
and  shame  that  had  gathered  to  her  eyes.  Lieutenant 
Carrington    stood    quite    speechless!    never    had    he 


88  MEADOWSWEET 

heard  such  a  torrent  of  passionate  wrath  flowing  from 
a  woman's  lips.  Olive,  too,  while  the  child  spoke  was 
silent  with  amazement.  And  now  when  Boadicea 
paused  either  from  want  of  breath  or  because  her 
emotion  was  really  choking  her,  all  that  Lady  Jef- 
freys could  say  was  a  mild  admonitory, 

"Child!  child!" 

In  a  moment  Boadicea's  arms  were  round  her  sis- 
ter's neck. 

"Forgive  me,  Olive,"  she  pleaded  through  her 
tears,  "Olive,  dear,  darling,  my  beautiful  Olive?  you 
iare  different  to  anybody  else,  quite  different,  and  I 
love  you !     I  love  you !     I  love  you  I  " 

Then  she  kissed  Olive  passionately,  and  the  next 
second  had  run  quickly  to  the  door.  Here,  however, 
she  turned,  just  as  her  hand  was  on  the  latch,  and 
faced  Lieutenant  Carrington,  who  was  still  standing 
amazed,  and  supremely  uncomfortable  as  many  men 
appear  when  women  are  in  tears. 

She  looked  him  straight  in  the  face,  her  eyes 
glowing,  her  cheeks  aflame,  her  lips  red  and  moist:  a 
most  veritable  little  fury  of  wrath, 

"  But  I  hate  him!  "  she  said. 

Then  she  opened  the  door,  and  flounced  out  of  the 
room,  banging  the  door  to  behind  her,  so  that  Uncle 
Jasper  started  from  his  absorption  and  looked  down 
in  alarm  from  his  perch. 

"  Lord  bless  my  soul,  what  was  that  ?  "  he  queried 
vaguely. 

.  "  Nothing,  Uncle,  nothing,"  replied  Olive,  "  a  little 
childish  tantrum,  that  is  all.  Lieutenant  Jack,"  she 
added,  once  more  turning  to  the  young  man  a  serene 


A  LITTLE  FURY  OF  WRATH  89 

and  smiling  face,  "won't  you  sit  awhile?  We  can 
have  a  pleasant  talk  before  supper,  and  Uncle  Jasper 
need  not  disturb  us." 

And  as  a  matter  of  fact  Uncle  Jasper,  after  the 
momentary  interruption,  had  once  more  busied  him- 
self in  his  book,  and  was  taking  no  notice  of  anything 
that  might  be  going  on. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A  SOCIETY   LADY 

"  There,"  said  Lady  Jeffreys,  as  she  disposed  her 
graceful  person  to  its  best  advantage  upon  the  sofa, 
and  gave  the  cushions  an  inviting  Httle  pat,  "  come 
and  sit  beside  me,  Jack.  You  fooHsh  boy,"  she  added, 
seeing  a  quick  bkish  mount  to  his  cheeks,  "  it  is 
quite  proper.  We  are  both  guests  in  my  aunt's 
house,  and  there's  dear  Uncle  Jasper  playing  goose- 
berry." 

She  frowned  a  little  as  she  spoke,  for  Lieutenant 
Carrington  did  not  appear  to  be  so  eager  to  sit  beside 
her  as  she  w^ould  have  w^ished,  not  even  though  she 
cocked  her  head  on  one  side,  like  a  pretty  bird,  and 
beamed  an  invitation  at  him  through  her  shining  blue 
eyes. 

It  would  have  been  very  Ill-manilered  not  to  re- 
spond. Lieutenant  Carrington,  trained  in  the  best 
school  of  good  breeding,  could  not  at  this  juncture  do 
less  than  bow  gallantly  and  take  his  seat  beside  the 
fair  temptress  on  the  sofa.  But  he  was  obviously  ill 
at  ease,  as  young  men  are  apt  to  be  when  a  beautiful 
woman  is  kind  and  has  a  desire  to  be  entertained. 

Lieutenant  Carrington  was  racking  his  brain  to  find 
an  opening  for  polite  conversation. 

"  Your  sister  is  a  curious  child,"  he  said  at  last, 
thinking  to;  find  si,  topic  of  unusual  interest. 

90 


A  SOCIETY  LADY  91 

"Oh!"  said  Olive  with  a  pout  that  became  her 
pretty  mouth  remarkably  well,  "  she  is  only  the  un- 
civilised product  of  barbaric  surroundings.  What  can 
you  expect  from  education  that  has  been  confined 
within  the  boundaries  of  Thanet?" 

Then,  as  he  made  no  comment,  she  said  archly : 

"  Jack !  you  have  forgotten  to  say  that  you  are 
pleased  to  see  me." 

"  Does  so  obvious  a  fact  need  stating?  "  he  asked 
gallantly. 

She  gave  him  her  hand,  murmuring,  "  Flatterer ! " 
and  rewarded  him  for  his  gallant  speech  by  a  look 
through  the  veil  of  her  eyelashes;  a  look  which  her 
admirers  had  oft  told  her  was  irresistible. 

But  Lieutenant  Carrington  having  kissed  the  hand 
and  withstood  the  look,  appeared  quite  calm  when  he 
said: 

"  You  have  not  yet  told  me  what  brings  the  beau- 
tiful Lady  Jeffreys  out  of  London  in  the  height  of 
the  season." 

"  Did  you  wish  to  know  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Of  course,"  replied  he. 

"  Why,"  said  she,  "  it  was  in  order  to  see  you. 
Jack." 

"  Your  ladyship  is  pleased  to  jest." 

"Do  you  doubt  it  then?" 

"Oh!"  he  said,  with  a  slight  shrug  of  his  broad 
shoulders. 

A  look  of  tenderness  crept  into  her  eyes. 

"  You  know  that  I  am  in  earnest.  Jack." 

"  I  entreat  you,  Lady  Jeffreys,"  he  pleaded,  point- 
ing to  Uncle  Jasper. 


92  MEADOWSWEET 

But  she  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  laughed. 

"  Oh !  "  said  she,  "  he  heeds  nothing  but  his  Latin 
and  his  beetles.  Why  have  you  become  so  cautious, 
Jack?"  she  added  more  seriously,  "Why  did  you 
leave  London  so  suddenly?" 

"  I  had  to  rejoin  my  ship.  ...  I  — " 

"  Your  leave  does  not  expire  for  another  month  —> 
your  own  sister  told  me  this  in  London.  Why  won't 
you  speak  the  truth  ?  " 

"  I  have  told  you  the  truth,  Lady  Jeffreys,"  he  said, 
"  before  I  left  town." 

"  I  thought  that  you  cared  for  me.  Jack,"  she 
sighed. 

Now  we  all  know  that  to  play  the  part  of  a  Joseph 
in  commonplace,  every  day  life,  is  not  a  pleasing  task 
for  any  young  man ;  and  when  the  lady  is  very  beau- 
tiful and  very  young  and  the  man  is  chivalrous,  it 
becomes  indeed  a  very  invidious  one.  Lieutenant 
Carrington  would  at  this  moment  I  believe  have  given 
up  half  his  fortune  to  be  safely  back  in  his  bunk  on 
board  the  Dolphin.  The  harmless  ballroom  flirtation 
into  which  he  had  drifted  quite  unconsciously  in  Lon- 
don was  threatening  to  assume  proportions  of  which 
he  had  never  dreamed  and  which  almost  frightened 
him.  It  is  a  fact  that  some  of  the  bravest  men  have 
been  cowards  where  women  are  concerned. 

Lieutenant  Carrington  had  distinguished  himself  by 
conspicuous  bravery  in  the  China  seas,  and  yet  now  he 
felt  an  insane  desire  to  take  to  his  heels,  and  to  run 
away  as  hard  as  he  could  go.  For  a  moment  the  wild 
thought  came  into  his  brain  to  shout  at  the  top  of  his 
yoice  and  thus  attract  Uncle  Jasper's  attention,  who 


'A  SOCIETY  LADY  93 

indeed  was  a  most  inefficient  gooseberry,  but  I  think 
you  will  agree  that  this  would  have  been  most  unchiv- 
alrous  behaviour,  altogether  unfitting  a  sailor  and  a 
gentleman. 

So  when  Lady  Jeffreys  said  languishingly,  "  I 
thought  that  you  cared  for  me,  Jack,"  all  that  he  could 
think  of  to  say  in  reply  was : 

"  It  is  because  I  feared  that  I  might  soon  do  so, 
Lady  Jeffreys,  that  I  came  away." 

**  To  run  away  —  like  a  coward !  "  she  pleaded, 
"  It  does  not  seem  like  you." 

"  There  are  certain  dangers  which  it  were  cowardly 
to  court,"  he  protested, 

"  Love  is  not  a  danger,"  she  urged,  "  love  is  happi- 


ness," 


Poor  Jack  Carrington  felt  that  the  air  was  getting 
sultry.  He  would  now  have  given  his  very  next 
chance  of  promotion  for  the  chance  of  running  away, 
and  quite  a  good  deal  for  permission  to  open  the  win- 
dow. Never  had  he  felt  so  completely  at  a  disad- 
vantage. Perspiration  was  running  down  his  back, 
and  his  hair  felt  as  if  it  had  been  fastened  with  gum 
arable  to  his  temples. 

But  Olive  appeared  quite  cool;  her  skin  was  like 
ivory,  and  her  cheeks  had  only  a  sufficiency  of  colour 
in  them  to  make  her  eyes  seem  brighter  by  contrast, 
and  her  lips  more  red. 

"  You  will  come  back  to  town  with  me,  Jack !  "  she 
pleaded. 

"  Impossible,  Lady  Jeffreys,"  he  said  earnestly. 

*'Jack!" 

"  No." 


94  MEADOWSWEET 

There  was  a  slight  pause,  during  which  OHve 
thought  it  best  to  sigh,  and  to  produce  a  tiny  bit  of 
cambric  edged  with  dainty  lace. 

"Then,"  she  murmured,  and  up  went  the  bit  of 
cambric  to  the  brightest  possible  pair  of  blue  eyes, 
"  it  is  all  —  at  an  end  ?  " 

"If  what  had  no  beginning,"  he  rejoined  gently, 
**  can  be  said  to  have  an  end." 

She  looked  at  him  over  the  diminutive  pocket- 
handkerchief,  and  for  the  next  few  seconds  appeared 
to  be  studying  him  very  closely.  She  saw  a  young 
and  good-looking  face,  with  kindly  grey  eyes  that 
seemed  more  accustomed  to  twinkle  than  to  look  stern, 
she  also  saw  a  well-cut  mouth  with  lips  firmly  pressed 
together,  and  a  strong  jaw  which  showed  no  sign  of 
a  yielding  disposition. 

All  this  she  took  in  with  a  scrutinising  glance  of 
her  bright  eyes,  even  though  they  were  veiled  with 
tears.  It  is  wonderful  how  much  a  woman  can  ob- 
serve through  tears,  and  no  doubt  Olive  saw  every- 
thing that  she  wished  to  see,  or  rather  everything 
which  she  would  rather  not  have  seen  just  now. 

And  then  a  very  curious  thing  happened.  But  a 
few  seconds  ago  there  had  sat  upon  the  sofa  an  ex- 
quisitely beautiful  woman  with  tear-dimmed  eyes  and 
a  mellow  voice  half -choked  by  tender  emotions,  and 
the  poignancy  of  regrets.  Suddenly  that  woman  was 
changed  as  if  by  the  touch  of  a  magician's  wand,  and 
Jack  Carrington  saw  still  sitting  beside  him  a  very 
handsome  woman  of  the  world,  with  stern,  impassive 
face,  and  eyes  darkened  by  an  angry  frown. 

The  voice  too  had  changed.     It  was  hard  and  tren- 


A  SOCIETY  LADY  95 

chant  now ;  and  the  languishing  manner  had  gone,  giv- 
ing place  to  the  collected  and  calm  demeanour  of  a 
society  lady  who  has  just  cause  to  rebuke  an  insolent 
admirer. 

"  But  my  letters !  "  said  this  same  society  lady  in 
a  harsh  voice. 

"  Your  letters  .  .  ."  stammered  Jack  Carrington. 
He  was  greatly  bewildered  at  this  sudden  change  for 
he  was  a  young  man  and  had  had  little  or  no  experience 
of  the  curious  ways  of  women. 

"  Yes !  "  she  said  impatiently,  *'  my  letters !  I 
wrote  to  you  often,  and  often  injudiciously.  I  be- 
lieved in  your  honour  and  poured  out  my  heart  some- 
times in  my  epistles  to  you.  Yours  in  response  were 
very  brief  and  cold.  I  see  now,  alas !  how  foolish  and 
trusting  I  was;  how  cold  and  callous  you  were. 
There's  enough  matter  in  my  letters  to  destroy  the  rep- 
utation of  a  duchess.     Have  you  kept  them?  " 

"  Indeed,"  he  stammered,  still  feeling  very  dazed 
and  bewildered  and  vaguely  wondering  how  much  of 
this  interesting  conversation  came  to  the  ears  of  Uncle 
Jasper.     "  I  may  have  kept  a  few." 

"  A  few !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Hark !  at  the  vanity 
of  the  man!  A  woman  pours  out  the  secrets  of  her 
heart  to  him  in  some  impassioned  letters,  and  he 
calmly  keeps  a  few !  " 

"  I  swear  to  you,  Lady  Jeffreys,"  said  Jack  Car- 
rington, who  now  felt  sincerely  sorry  for  her,  "  that 
those  which  I  have  kept  —  so  presumptuously  I  own  — 
shall  be  destroyed  this  very  night." 

"  Pshaw!  a  man's  vow  to  a  woman!  "  she  retorted. 
"  I'll  not  believe  you." 


96  MEADOWSWEET 

"  But,  Lady  Jeffreys  .  .  ."  he  protested. 

"  Unless  I  have  my  letters  in  my  own  hands,  I'll 
never  again  know  a  moment's  peace." 

"  Then  I'll  place  them  in  your  hands  myself." 

"When?" 

"  To-morrow." 

"  Too  late.  I  must  leave  for  town  at  break  of  day," 
she  asserted  unblushingly.  "  You  could  not  present 
yourself  in  this  house  at  such  an  early  hour." 

"  Then  I  will  send  them  to  you  by  a  trusted  messen- 
ger." 

"  That  they  may  fall  into  wrong  hands !  " 

"  Then  what  can  I  do  ?  "  he  cried  in  genuine  dis- 
tress. 

"Think!  think!"  she  urged. 

"  Let  me  fetch  them  now  and  bring  them  back.  I 
am  lodging  in  Ramsgate,  I  could  be  back  in  less  than 
two  hours." 

"  Impossible.  Supper  will  be  served  in  a  few  mo- 
ments ;  what  excuse  could  you  make  for  thus  running 
away?  " 

"  Then  what  can  I  do  ?  "  he  reiterated  again  In  com- 
plete despair. 

She  waited  a  moment,  watching  him  with  narrowed 
eyes,  that  certainly  held  no  tears.  Then  suddenly  she 
leaned  forward,  with  an  eager  and  bright  look,  and 
placed  her  hand  upon  his  sleeve. 

"Listen,  Jack,"  she  said,  speaking  low  and  fast. 
"I  shall  not  know  a  moment's  peace  until  those  let- 
ters of  mine  are  back  in  my  hands.  So  this  is  what 
I  think  would  be  best.  To-night,  after  supper,  leave 
as  early  as  you  can  with  convenience  and  politeness. 


A  SOCIETY  LADY  97 

but  be  careful  to  leave  something  behind  —  your  man- 
tle or  your  gloves.  Then  go  back  to  your  lodgings, 
fetch  all  my  letters,  and  bring  them  to  me." 

"  But,  Lady  Jeffreys  .  .  ."  he  protested. 

"  Tush,  man,"  she  said,  "  it's  quite  simple.     You 
can  walk  to  Ramsgate  in  an  hour,  can't  you?  " 
In  less  —  for  I  would  run  all  the  way." 
A  quarter  of  an  hour  to  get  my  letters,  and  order 
a  horse  to  be  saddled  —  you  can  do  that?  " 

"  Of  course." 

"And  half  an  hour  for  the  return  journey,"  she 
concluded  eagerly.  "  You  would  not  be  gone  two 
hours,  and  Uncle  Jasper  never  goes  to  bed  before  ten. 
If  you  will  leave  here  soon  after  seven  —  you  can 
easily  find  a  pretext  —  your  duty  —  or  —  or  some  im- 
portant letters  to  write.  ,When  you  return  you  will 
find  me  sitting  in  this  room  with  Uncle  Jasper  for 
gooseberry.  I  will  watch  for  you,  and  if  you  rap  at 
the  back  door  I  will  open  it  —  Uncle  Jasper  will  ask 
no  questions,  and  if  he  does  there  wall  be  your  mantle 
left  behind  to  account  for  your  return.  By  to-mor- 
row morning  he  will  have  forgotten  all  about  you  — 
so  you  see  how  simple  it  all  is." 

It  certainly  did  sound  very  simple,  and  though  at 
the  bottom  of  his  heart  Jack  Carrington  strongly  dis- 
approved of  the  adventure,  he  could  not  think  of  any 
serious  objection  to  make  to  it,  nor  of  any  strong  ex- 
cuse for  refusing  to  obey  Lady  Jeffreys's  commands. 
Inwardly  he  was  cursing  himself  for  having  been  so 
foolish  as  to  keep  those  silly  letters,  which  were  noth- 
ing but  the  senseless  ebullitions  of  a  self-willed  and 
headstrong  woman.     He  was  indeed  being  severely 


98  MEADOWSWEET 

punished  for  the  harmless  ballroom  flirtation  into 
which  he  had  allowed  himself  to  drift  without  thought 
of  consequences.  To  him  the  whole  thing  had  meant 
nothing  but  momentary  amusement,  and  a  certain  sat- 
isfaction to  masculine  vanity,  whilst  she  of  course 
seemed  to  have  forgotten  how  quickly  a  woman's  rep- 
utation becomes  the  prey  of  the  envious  gossip- 
mongers.  Would  to  God  that  she  felt  that  she  could 
trust  him;  he  was  only  too  ready  to  destroy  the  let- 
ters, if  only  she  would  allow  him  to  do  so  quietly  in 
his  own  lodgings.  But  to  this  simple  course  she  ap- 
parently would  not  give  her  consent.  She  now 
refused  to  trust  him  whom  she  had  already  so  com- 
pletely trusted.  Perhaps  she  thought  that  he  had 
acted  dishonourably  towards  her  —  perhaps  —  oh !  the 
awful  thought  —  he  had  acted  dishonourably,  and  was 
not  worthy  of  a  woman's  trust. 

You  see  that  Lieutenant  Carrington's  meditations, 
whilst  Olive  urged  her  plan  on  him,  were  none  too 
pleasant.  A  vague  feeling  of  remorse  weakened  his 
will,  and  broke  down  the  last  barrier  of  resistance. 

"  Jack,"  she  pleaded  finally,  seeing  plainly  that  at 
last  he  was  ready  to  give  way,  "  I  must  trust  to  your 
honour  in  this.     You  won't  deceive  me  again." 

"  Lady  Jeffreys  .  .  ."  he  stammered  helplessly. 
You  will  do  as  I  ask  you,  Jack?  " 
I  have  no  option,  Lady  Jeffreys." 
To-night,  then,  at  about  half -past  nine,  I  will  be 
here  with  Uncle  Jasper.     You  will  see  the  light  in  the 
window.     You'll  not   fail  to  come.  Jack.     Promise 
me!" 

And  he  promised. 


{{ 


it 


CHAPTER  IX 

AN  EXQUISITE  APPARITION* 

Xt  last  the  victory  had  remained  with  Olive  Jef- 
freys. But  she  was  far  too  clever  a  woman  to  press 
it  further  home.  Jack  Carrington  was  one  of  those 
men  whose  promises  always  seem  binding  on  them- 
selves, whatever  might  betide. 

She  gave  a  short  sigh  of  satisfaction  and  leaned 
back  against  the  cushions  of  the  sofa.  She  re- 
arranged the  folds  of  her  gown  with  a  careless  hand 
and  so  settled  down  for  ordinary  conversation. 

To  begin  with  she  told  Lieutenant  Carrington  that 
Sir  Baldwin  Jeffreys  had  elected  to  ride  home  only 
in  the  cool  of  the  evening.  Aunt  Caroline  had  told 
her  awhile  ago  of  Sir  Baldwin's  changed  intentions, 
and  that  he  had  gone  to  Minster  to  spend  an  hour  or 
two  before  supper  with  Mr.  Culpepper  who  was-a  very 
old  friend.  She  was  talking  quite  coolly,  even 
though  she  could  see  that  Lieutenant  Carrington  had 
frowned  and  flushed.  No  doubt  the  thought  of  meet- 
ing Sir  Baldwin  at  supper  to-night  was  not  a  pleasant 
one.  But  to  the  capricious,  self-willed  woman  the 
announcement  had  not  been  altogether  unwelcome. 
Excitement  and  intrigues  were  as  the  breath  of  her 
body  to  her,  and  she  was  not  at  all  displeased  when 
the  thought  crossed   her  mind  that   Sir  Baldwin's 

99 


100  MEADOWSWEET 

changed  intentions  might  have  been  coincident  with 
his  hearing  casually  that  the  Dolphin  lay  at  anchor 
in  Ramsgate  Harbour. 

She  was  never  averse  to  exciting  his  jealousy, 
which  in  a  way  seemed  a  homage  rendered  by  him 
to  her  powers  of  fascination,  and  though  at  times  she 
was  a  little  afraid  of  him,  yet  she  knew  herself  to 
be  far  too  cautious  and  too  clever  to  place  herself 
thoroughly  in  the  wrong  before  him  when  violence  on 
his  part  might  have  been  justified. 

The  thought  that  Sir  Baldwin  would  be  riding  away 
to-night  with  the  full  knowledge  that  despite  his 
machinations  and  his  tyranny,  she  would  still  be 
thrown  in  the  society  of  Jack  Carrington,  caused  her 
infinite  amusement;  and  if  he  further  changed  his  in- 
tentions and  did  elect  to  spend  the  night  at  Old  Manor 
Farm,  she  still  meant  so  to  manipulate  the  threads  of 
her  intrigue,  that  they  would  never  enmesh  her,  but 
leave  her  triumphant,  and  happy  in  her  role  of  an  in- 
nocent and  much  maligned  woman. 

How  she  would  manage  all  that,  she  did  not  at 
present  know,  but  the  thought  of  supper  with  Sir 
Baldwin  sitting  opposite  to  her  and  Jack  Carrington 
by  her  side  was  distinctly  exhilarating. 

She  heard  her  husband's  heavy  footsteps  in  the 
hall,  a  few  moments  after  a  loud  toned  bell  had  pro- 
claimed the  fact  tliat  supper  was  about  to  be  served. 
Lady  Jeffreys,  satisfied  that  the  young  man  seemed 
duly  disturbed  in  his  mind,  began  talking  calmly  about 
the  weather  and  of  the  London  season,  and  Lieutenant 
Carrington  gave  reply  as  best  he  could. 

Soon  Aunt  Caroline  came  in,  fussy  and  garrulous  as 


AN  EXQUISITE  APPARITION         loi 

usual,  dressed  in  her  best  puce  silk  and  with  a  new 
lace  cap  on  her  head. 

Sir  Baldwin  Jeffreys  entered  the  room  five  minutes 
later.  He  was  perfectly  calm  and  self-possessed,  and 
Olive  had  not  even  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  a  look  of 
jealous  wrath  in  his  eyes.  He  did  not  appear  at  all 
surprised  at  seeing  Jack  —  perhaps  Aunt  Caroline  or 
even  Susan  had  told  him  that  Lieutenant  Carrington 
was  here.  Be  that  as  it  may,  he  bowed  most  politely 
if  somewhat  stiffly  to  the  young  man,  and  then  ad- 
dressed himself  quite  pleasantly  to  his  wife, 

Barnaby  Crabtree's  entrance,  however,  soon  caused 
a  diversion.     He  came  in,  grumbling  as  usual. 

"  Nothing  so  bad  for  the  digestion,  Caroline,  as  un- 
punctuality.  .  .  .  That  wench  of  yours  must  be  given 
a  month's  wages  in  lieu  of  notice  if  she  does  not 
learn  to  dish  up  to  time." 

Even  before  Aunt  Caroline  could  enter  her  habitual 
meek  protest,  Susan,  with  her  cap  awry  as  usual,  and 
her  hands  and  feet  very  much  in  the  way,  came  to  the 
door  and  announced  loudly : 

"  I've  dished  up,  ma'am !  " 

Whereupon  she  appeared  to  have  been  scared  by 
her  own  voice,  for  she  fled  back  across  the  hall  as  if 
she  had  been  shot  out  of  a  gun. 

*'  Ten  minutes  late ! "  was  Mr.  Crabtree's  parting 
shot  at  the  flying  Susan. 

"  I  hope.  Sir  Baldwin,  that  you  will  excuse  a  very 
simple  supper,"  said  Aunt  Caroline,  whose  cap  was 
beginning  to  emulate  Susan's  in  its  gyrations  down  the 
slope  of  her  head,  "  and  you  too,  sir  —  I  mean  Jack; 
we  are  only  country  folk." 


102  MEADOWSWEET 

"  Don't  make  excuses  to  Sir  Baldwin,  Kunt,"  said 
Olive  lightly,  "  since  he  must  make  a  start  soon  after 
supper  he  will  be  glad  of  a  simple  menu." 

Aunt  Caroline  now  went  up  fussing  to  Uncle  Jaspef , 
mounting  half-way  up  the  steps,  and  shaking  him  vig- 
orously by  the  leg. 

** Jasper!  Jasper!"  she  ishouted.  "Lord  bless  us 
all,  he'd  starve  up  there  first,  before  he  took  any 
notice.     Jasper!  Jasper!  we  are  all  waiting." 

"  Waiting,"  said  Uncle  Jasper  blandly,  *'  oh,  don't 
wait,  Caroline,  I've  often  told  you  not  to  wait  tea 
for  me." 

"  The  man  is  a  begad  idiot,"  muttered  Cousin  Bar- 
naby. 

"  It's  not  tea,  Jasper,"  said  Aunt  Caroline,  impa- 
tiently, "  it's  supper  —  supper,  and  you've  had  no  tea. 
Do  please  lead  the  way  with  Lady  Jeffreys,  sir  —  I 
mean.  Jack,  and  you,  too.  Sir  Baldwin,  I  pray  you 
walk  to  the  dining-room.  I'll  get  your  uncle  down 
from  his  perch  presently  and  bring  him  along  with 
me.  .  .  .  But  Where's  Boadicea?"  she  added,  notic- 
ing for  the  first  time  that  the  child  was  absent. 

"  Are  we  going  to  have  supper  to-night,  Caroline,'* 
interposed  Mr.  Crabtree,  "  or  are  we  not  ?  " 

"  Of  course  we  are,  Cousin  Barnaby,"  retorted  she, 
"but  I  must  know  why  Boadicea  isn't  down  yet — ■ 
I  hope  she  didn't  hurt  herself  falling  this  afternoon." 

"  Tush,  Aunt,"  said  Olive  lightly,  "  the  child  was 
shy.  She's  not  used  to  strangers;  she'll  slip  down- 
stairs presently  when  we  are  all  seated." 

But  this  idea  found  no  favour  with  Aunt  Caroline. 
The  traditions  of  Old  Manor  Farm  demanded  that 


AN  EXQUISITE  APPARITION         103 

everyone  should  assemble  in  the  museum  before  the 
principal  meals  of  the  day,  and  file  in  from  there  all  to- 
gether into  the  dining-room. 

Therefore  she  now  went  to  the  door  and  called 
loudly  at  the  top  of  her  voice: 

"  Boadicea,  child  —  are  you  coming?  " 

And  from  upstairs  came  the  young  girl's  voice  in 
response : 

"  At  once,  Aunt  Caroline." 

There  was  a  patter  of  light  feet  on  the  polished  oak 
staircase  and  a  minute  later  the  door  of  the  museum 
was  thrown  open  and  Boadicea  entered  the  room. 

When  I  say  that  Boadicea  entered  the  room  I  must 
admit  at  once  that  no  one  there  present  recognised  at 
first  who  it  was  that  was  standing  there  in  the  door- 
way, framed  by  the  heavy  dark  oak,  and  with  the 
vague  dark  background  of  the  hall  behind  like  some 
picture  of  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence. 

Anything  more  unlike  the  tattered,  hoydenish  appa- 
rition which  Boadicea  usually  presented  could  not  well 
be  imagined.  No  wonder  that  Aunt  Caroline  and 
Olive,  Lieutenant  Carrington,  and  even  Sir  Baldwin, 
stared  upon  her  quite  speechless  with  wonder. 

She  had  donned  a  high-waisted  silk  dress  in  colour 
like  the  ripe  fruit  of  the  lime,  in  cut  somewhat  old- 
fashioned,  suggestive  of  the  time  when  Boadicea's 
mother  clasped  her  youngest  baby  girl  to  her  heart. 
She  had  dressed  her  soft  brown  hair  in  a  multitude  of 
puffs  and  curls,  which  fell  all  round  her  young  face, 
and  were  held  up  at  the  back  of  her  head  with  a  tall 
comb  of  filigree  gold.  On  her  feet  she  had  a  pair  of 
transparent  silk  stockings  and  tiny  bronze  shoes  with 


104  MEADOWSWEET 

fcross-strapS  over  the  ankles.  A  soft  ficHu  of  muslin 
was  crossed  over  her  shoulders,  and  she  had  lace  mit- 
tens on  her  hands.  A  bunch  of  pale  blush  roses  nes- 
tled in  her  bosom,  and  a  delicate  blush  suffused  her 
cheeks. 

She  was  as  pretty  and  dainty  an  apparition  as  the 
fusty  old  museum  had  ever  seen.  The  exquisite  youth 
and  girlishness  which  exhaled  like  fragrant  flowers 
from  her  whole  personality  fascinated  every  beholder, 
save,  perhaps,  Olive,  Lady  Jeffreys,  whose  complexion 
had  had  to  stand  the  wear  and  tear  of  two  London 
seasons. 

But  Boadicea  appeared  quite  unconscious  of  the 
sensation  which  she  had  caused.  With  mincing  steps 
she  advanced  further  into  the  room,  toying  with  her 
fan  and  casting  languishing  glances  on  everyone 
around. 

"Supper?"  she  said  in  a  slow  drawly  tone  to 
which  her  fresh  clear  voice  seemed  not  altogether  at- 
tuned, "  Supper?  Lud!  I  had  forgotten  —  I  am  sure 
I  could  not  eat  a  morsel  —  these  hot  days  play  havoc 
with  one's  appetite.  Ah!  Sir  Baldwin  Jeffreys! 
This  is  an  unexpected  pleasure.  Glad  will  I  be  to  hear 
the  latest  news  from  town.  Cousin  Barnaby,  please 
lead  the  way  —  you,  no  doubt,  are  dying  of  hunger." 

Then  she  turned  with  a  smile  and  a  simper  to  Lieu- 
tenant Carrington  and  holding  out  her  hand  she  said : 

"  Shall  we  follow,  Lieutenant  Carrington?" 

And  he,  smiling  and  bowing,  and  with  a  wealth  of 
amusement  dancing  in  his  eyes,  offered  her  his  arm, 
which  she  took  with  the  consummate  grace  of  an  ele- 
gant lad^  of  fashion. 


AN  EXQUISITE  APPARITION         "105 

As  Aunt  Caroline  would  not  let  go  of  Uncle  Jas- 
per's sleeve,  Olive  v^as  left  to  follow  on  her  husband's 
arm,  which  she  did  with  none  too  good  a  grace,  whilst 
across  the  hall  she  could  hear  Lieutenant  Carrington's 
whole-hearted  laugh  in  response  to  some  witty  sally; 
apparently  made  by  transformed  Boadicea. 


CHAPTER  X 

A  FULL-BLOWN  YOUNG  WOMAN 

Supper  that  night  in  the  flagged  dining-room  of 
Old  Manor  Farm  had  been  extremely  lively,  and 
everyone  who  was  unprejudiced  would  be  bound  to 
admit  that  the  merriment  which  reigned  around  the 
table  was  entirely  due  to  Boadicea. 

She  was  vivacious  in  the  extreme,  keeping  up  a 
flow  of  small  talk  with  Lieutenant  Carrington  and 
with  Sir  Baldwin  Jeffreys  which  caused  the  latter  no 
small  measure  of  astonishment.  Little  Boadicea  — 
whom  he  had  known  as  a  tomboy,  usually  with  a 
grimy  face  and  invariably  with  dirty  hands  —  had 
suddenly  developed  into  a  full-blown,  self-possessed 
young  woman,  with  an  endless  fund  of  conversation 
and  a  marked  talent  for  fresh  repartee. 

She  looked  remarkably  pretty,  too,  now  that  her 
face  became  more  and  more  animated  as  supper  pro- 
gressed and  she  felt  herself  an  object  of  attraction 
and  of  praise. 

Aunt  Caroline  had  not  begun  to  get  over  her  aston- 
ishment.  What  had  come  to  the  child  she  could  not 
think,  nor  why  she  should  have  chosen  this  particular 
evening  on  which  to  unearth  from  the  bottom  of  an 
old  oak  chest,  where  it  had  lain  in  lavender  for  fifteen 
years,  the  lime-coloured  silk  gown  in  which  poor  dear 
Lucy  had  been  presented  to  King  George  IV, 

1 06 


A  FULL-BLOWN  YOUNG  WOMAN     107 

For  the  moment,  however,  Aunt  Caroline  was  far 
too  busy  at  her  end  of  the  table  to  study  this  puzzle 
deeply.  She  had  Cousin  Barnaby  on  her  right,  who 
was  eating  enormously,  and  Sir  Baldwin  on  her  left, 
who  was  eating  nothing,  and,  what  with  urging  Sir 
Baldwin  to  take  a  little  more  cold  beef  and  Cousin 
Barnaby  not  to  eat  so  much  veal  and  ham  pie,  she 
grew  redder  and  hotter  every  moment,  until  the  seams 
of  the  magnificent  puce  silk  gown  seemed  to  be  creak- 
ing and  crackling  all  at  once. 

At  intervals  she  scolded  Susan  in  an  audible  whis- 
per. 

"  You  mustn't  nudge  that  gentleman  when  you  are 
handing  the  vegetables,  Susan !  Be  careful  not  to  put 
your  thumb  into  the  salad  when  you  hold  the  dish  — 
put  your  hand  underneath !  Don't  offer  the  cream  to 
Miss  Boadicea;  you  know  she  doesn't  really  care  for 
it,  and  there  isn't  enough  to  go  round!  Don't 
go  breathing  so  loud  when  you  are  waiting  at 
table  —  one  would  think  you'd  got  asthma  or  some- 
thing!" 

Olive  alone  in  the  midst  of  this  lively  company  ap- 
peared glum  and  silent.  She  ate  very  little,  and  once 
or  twice  she  complained  of  the  heat,  asking  for  the 
window  to  be  opened.  She  certainly  had  Sir  Baldwin 
opposite  to  her  and  Lieutenant  Carrington  by  her  side, 
but  both  these  gentlemen  seemed  to  pay  more  attention 
to  Boadicea  than  they  did  to  herself  —  a  demeanour 
which  was  wholly  unpardonable. 

It  was  she  who  gave  the  signal  for  the  ladies  to 
retire  to  the  parlour,  and  she  sailed  majestically  out 
of  the  room,  followed  by  Boadicea  and  Aunt  Caroline, 


io8  MEADOWSWEET 

and  with  Uncle  Jasper  bringing  up  tKe  rear.  Uncle 
Jasper  never  cared  to  sit  with  the  gentlemen  over  their 
wine;  he  never  drank  wine  himself,  and  thought  every 
meal  such  a  bore  that  he  never  had  the  slightest  desire 
to  linger  over  it. 

But  it  was  the  custom  at  Old  Manor  Farm  that  after 
supper  Uncle  Jasper  should  sit  with  the  ladies  in  the 
little  parlour,  which  was  situated  to  the  left  of  the 
front  entrance  door,  and  immediately  faced  the  way 
into  the  dining-room  opposite.  In  this  little  parlour 
there  was  an  old-fashioned  spinet,  and  Boadicea,  who 
had  had  lessons  for  a  year  or  two  from  the  organist 
of  Minster  Church,  used  to  play  old  airs  upon  it  and 
accompany  herself  when  she  sang. 

Tradition  at  Old  Manor  Farm  also  demanded  that 
after  supper  she  should  sit  at  the  spinet  and  sing  Aunt 
Caroline's  favourite  tunes.  These  were,  "  I  Asked  my 
Fair  One,"  and  "  Auld  Robin  Gray,"  and  "Home, 
Sweet  Home,"  which  Mr.  Bishop  had  composed. 
While  she  played  and  sang  Aunt  Caroline  invariably 
went  to  sleep  and  Uncle  Jasper  fished  a  book  out  of 
his  pocket  and  immersed  himself  in  bats  and  beetles. 
Lately,  too,  Cousin  Barnaby  had  added  the  bass  of 
his  snores  to  the  treble  of  Aunt  Caroline's,  but  this 
did  not  upset  Boadicea's  singing  in  the  least. 

She  sang  for  herself  more  than  she  did  for  the  oth- 
ers, as  the  birds  sing  in  spring,  because  they  are 
young,  and  gay,  and  alive,  and  not  because  anyone  else 
is  listening. 

And  to-night  she  went  to  the  spinet  as  usual,  uncon- 
scious of  the  pretty  picture  which  she  made  there 
against  the  dull  greyish  white  of  the  walls,  and  with 


A  FULL-BLOWN  YOUNG  WOMAN     109 

the  light  of  the  lamp  just  illumining  her  delicate  pro- 
file, the  curled  lashes,  and  the  moist  lips  parted  as  she 
sang. 

Olive,  who  sat  on  the  sofa  beside  Aunt  Caroline, 
frowned  whenever  she  looked  across  the  room  toward 
the  spinet,  and  the  tip  of  her  foot  beat  an  impatient 
tattoo  on  the  floor.  Aunt  Caroline,  as  usual,  was  full 
of  regrets  and  sighs,  and  she  indulged  in  these  whilst 
counting  the  stitches  of  her  knitting. 

The  door  which  gave  on  the  hall  was  open,  and 
from  the  dining-room  beyond  came  the  drone  of  the 
men's  voices  talking  over  their  wine.  From  time  to 
time  Mr.  Crabtree's  rose  in  a  high-pitched  alto. 

"  Will  you  be  so  kind,"  he  would  say  loudly,  "  as 
to  pass  me  the  port.  Sir  Baldwin?  People  in  this 
house  are  ignorant  of  the  elements  of  hospitality." 

Then  Aunt  Caroline  would  endeavour  to  catch 
Olive's  glance  ere  she  sighed  resignedly. 

"  Come,  Aunt,"  said  Olive  impatiently,  on  one  occa- 
sion when  Cousin  Barnaby's  remark  from  the  dining- 
room  sounded  peculiarly  rude,  "  it's  no  use  making 
sheep's  eyes  at  me  like  this,  and  sighing  like  one  of 
those  new  railway  engines.  I  can  do  nothing  to  help 
you.  You  and  Uncle  Jasper  only  get  what  you  de- 
serve ! " 

"But  what  can  I  do,  Olive?"  again  sighed  Aunt 
Caroline  in  utter  helplessness. 

"Two  things,"  replied  Lady  Jeffreys  resolutely; 
"  Give  that  old  Crabapple  the  go-by  and  send  Boadicea 
to  school ! " 

"  With  no  less  than  three  hairless  offsprings,"  mur- 
mured Uncle  Jasper,  lost  in  his  book. 


no  MEADOWSWEET 

Aunt  Caroline  gave  a  start,  and  Her  knitting  fell 
on  the  floor. 

"  To  school?  "  she  ejaculated,  in  a  state  of  complete 
bewilderment,  "  and  with  what  ?  " 

"  In  heaven's  name,  don't  be  so  stupid,  Aunt ! "  re- 
torted Olive,  whose  temper  was  none  of  the  best  just 
now ;  "  the  matter  is  far  too  serious  not  to  be  seriously 
discussed.  I  said  that  Boadicea  ought  to  go  to  board- 
ing school  for  at  least  a  year,  just  as  I  did  at  her  age. 
The  child  has  no  manners.  Either  she  behaves  like 
a  tomboy  or  like  a  pert  minx !  '* 

She  had  spoken  acidly  and  at  the  top  of  her  voice. 
Boadicea's  hands  dropped  from  the  spinet.  She 
turned  on  the  music  stool  and  looked  straight  at  Olive, 
with  eyes  wide  open  in  astonishment. 

"  Look  at  the  way  she  behaved  to-night !  "  contin- 
ued Olive,  whom  the  sight  of  Boadicea  thus  facing  her 
seemed  to  exasperate  still  further. 

"  How  did  I  behave  to-nightj  Olive  ? "  queried 
Boadicea. 

"  In  a  perfectly  ridiculous  fashion  I  The  way  you 
threw  yourself  at  Lieutenant  Carrington's  head  was 
positively  indecent ! " 

"  Olive!  "  exclaimed  the  younger  girl  reproachfully. 

But  Olive  felt  spiteful,  and  was  not  inclined  to 
mince  her  words  or  to  spare  her  sister's  feelings. 

"  He  was  quite  bewildered,"  she  said.  "  I  could 
see  it  on  his  face.  He  did  not  know  how  to  respond 
to  your  bold  advances.  Gentlemen  who  are  accus- 
tomed to  the  usages  of  good  society  and  to  the  man- 
ners of  well-educated  young  ladies  don't  always  know 
how  to  deal  with  the  embarrassing  attentions  whicH 


A  FULL-BLOWN  YOUNG  WOMAN     iii 

they  get  from  country  girls.  No  wonder  Lieutenant 
Carrington  left  so  soon  after  supper!  " 

"  He  said  quite  early  in  the  evening  that  he  would 
have  to  rejoin  his  ship  the  moment  he  had  swallowed 
his  supper,"  protested  Boadicea. 

"  Oh,  he  would  not  have  gone  so  soon,  I  feel  sure, 
if  your  behaviour  had  not  rendered  his  stay  uncom- 
fortable." 

"  He  certainly  seemed  in  a  great  hurry  to  depart," 
commented  Aunt  Caroline. 

Whereupon  Boadicea  ran  to  her  sister  in  an  agony 
of  repentance.  She  fell  on  her  knees,  and,  in  her  ha- 
bitual impulsive  way,  put  her  arms  around  Olive's 
shoulders. 

"  I  did  not  think  that  I  had  done  any  wrong!  "  she 
cried  tearfully.  "  Oh,  Olive  dear,  I  wish  you  could 
teach  me  to  be  more  like  you !  " 

"There,  there,  child!"  said  Olive,  somewhat  molli- 
fied, though  still  rather  acid  and  impatient.  "  For 
gracious  sake,  don't  cry!  Your  nose  is  inclined  to  be 
red  at  all  times;  it  will  look  swollen  if  you  cry  after 
a  meal.  They'll  teach  you  manners  at  boarding 
school,  and  after  that  you  must  exercise  proper  self- 
restraint." 

"  Yes,  Olive,"  murmured  the  girl  meekly. 

"  It  is  not  a  bit  of  good  showing  a  man  that  you 
like  him.  The  more  you  try  to  run  after  him,  the 
quicker  he  will  evade  you,"  continued  Lady  Jeffreys 
sententiously. 

"  I  am  sure,"  protested  Boadicea,  "  that  I  neither 
like  Lieutenant  Carrington,  nor  did  I  have  any  desire 
to  run  after  him,  as  you  put  it." 


112  MEADOWSWEET 

^  "  Well,  cliild,  you  acted  as  if  you  did !  But  there, 
in  heaven's  name,  don't  start  whimpering  again,  and 
don't  hang  round  me  Hke  this !  You  would  ruin  any- 
one's clothes ! " 

"  Go  back  to  your  spinet,  child !  "  concluded  Aunt 
Caroline.  *'  Olive  and  I  have  many  things  to  talk 
over,  and  your  uncle  gets  fidgetty  at  this  hour  if  you 
stop  singing." 

Boadicea  rose  obediently  and  went  back  to  the 
spinet.  Tears  still  hovered  on  her  lashes,  for  she  was 
finding  life  more  bewildering  than  she  had  anticipated. 
It  did  not  seem  quite  so  easy  as  she  had  thought  to 
step  from  out  the  guise  of  a  savage  into  that  of  a 
young  lady.  A  silk  frock  and  mincing  ways  were  not 
sufficient,  it  appears.  With  humiliating  self-depreca- 
tion Boadicea  reviewed  her  own  conduct  most  unfa- 
vourably, and,  though  she  was  quite  sure  that  she  did 
not  care  the  least  little  bit  what  Lieutenant  Carring- 
ton  thought  of  her  or  her  behaviour,  she  was  equally 
convinced  that  she  cared  a  great  deal  for  Olive's  opin- 
ion of  her. 

Her  fingers  now  wandered  idly  over  the  yellow 
keys.  She  had  not  the  heart  to  sing  a  lively  song,  and 
the  only  song  for  which  she  seemed  to  have  a  fancy 
just  now  was  "  On  the  Banks  of  Allan  Water,"  and 
her  voice  lingered  lovingly  over  the  last  line :  "  There 
a  corpse  lay  she." 

Tears  came  to  her  eyes  whilst  she  sang;  for  some 
reason,  which  she  could  not  have  explained,  she  felt 
inexpressibly  sad.  The  delight  of  seeing  Olive  had 
been  marred  in  some  way  which  she  did  not  altogether 
understand.     Her  own  behaviour,  shq  thought,  must 


A  FULL-BLOWN  YOUNG  WOMAN     113 

have  had  something  to  do  with  it,  for  the  young  girl 
was  far  too  loyal  to  admit  even  to  herself  that  there 
was  any  coldness  or  ill-temper  in  the  sister  whom  she 
idolised. 

For  awhile  the  low  hum  of  conversation  between 
Aunt  Caroline  and  Olive  reached  her  ears,  even 
through  the  melancholy  music  of  "  The  Banks  of 
Allan  Water."  Then  after  awhile  there  was  silence  in 
that  part  of  the  room;  Aunt  Caroline  was  busy  with 
her  knitting  and  OHve  was  wrapped  in  meditations  of 
a  pleasant  nature,  no  doubt,  for  her  ill-temper  seemed 
to  have  vanished  and  there  was  a  satisfied  smile 
around  her  lips. 

In  the  meanwhile  Cousin  Barnaby  was  making  his 
presence  felt  in  the  house;  in  fact,  he  never  allowed 
anyone  to  forget  his  existence  for  long.  Now  he  was, 
as  usual,  calling  for  Aunt  Caroline  in  a  loud  and  un- 
mannerly voice  right  across  the  hall. 

"Cousin  Caroline!     Where  the  deuce  are  you?" 

Uncle  Jasper  clutched  his  book.  Cousin  Barnaby 
had  always  the  power  to  rouse  him  from  his  medita- 
tions, and  now  he  half  rose  from  his  chair,  obviously 
prepared  to  beat  a  precipitate  retreat.  But  Aunt  Car- 
oline guessed  his  purpose,  and  before  he  could  move 
out  of  his  chair  she  had  pinned  him  down  again  into 
it  by  vigorously  pressing  on  his  shoulder  with  a  de- 
termined hand. 

"  No,  no,  Jasper !  "  she  said  resolutely,  "  you  shan't 
go  and  perch  upon  that  ladder  of  yours  just  now.  I 
want  you  here.     Now  is  the  time." 

"  Tempus  edax  verum,"  murmured  Uncle  Jasper 
with  a  melancholy  sigh. 


1 14  MEADOWSWEET 

"  I  said,"  rejoined  Aunt  Caroline  sternly,  "  that  now 
is  the  time  to  put  your  foot  down,  instead  of  quoting 
Latin  to  your  lawful  wife!  " 

In  the  meanwhile  Cousin  Barnaby  had  waddled 
across  the  hall,  still  calling  loudly : 

"Caroline,  where  the  devil  are  you?"  which,  of 
course,  was  excessively  ill-mannered  and  impolite  of 
him,  considering  that  he  was  a  most  unwelcome  guest 
in  Uncle  Jasper's  house.  He  now  entered  the  parlour, 
looking  for  all  the  world  like  an  over-fed  drake;  his 
napkin  was  still  tied  around  his  neck  and  hung  down 
his  chest  like  a  bib.  He  had  certainly  overeaten  him- 
self, for  his  face  was  very  red  and  his  fishy  eyes 
looked  bleary. 

"  Strange,"  he  said  as  he  entered  the  room,  "  that 
women  are  never  to  be  found  when  they  are  most 
wanted,  and  always  about  the  place  when  you  least  de- 
sire their  presence." 

Uncle  Jasper,  egged  on  by  Aunt  Caroline,  appeared 
to  be  making  a  gigantic  effort  to  put  his  foot  down; 
but  the  effort  only  resulted  in  the  meek  remark : 

"  Exceptio  probat  regulam !  "  which  brought  forth 
an  irritable  "  Don't  do  that,  Jasper ! "  from  Cousin 
Barnaby. 

At  this  point  Sir  Baldwin  entered  the  room.  He 
had  given  orders  that  his  horse  be  brought  round,  for 
now  he  had  no  longer  any  excuse  for  lingering  at  Old 
Manor  Farm,  and  he  really  did  want  to  reach  Ash  ford 
well  before  midnight. 

As  his  wife  made  no  motion  to  go  up  and  speak  to 
him,  he  made  his  way  to  the  spinet,  where  Boadicea 
etill  sat  idly  fingering  the  keys. 


CHAPTER  XI 

A   MUCH-WRONGED   WOMAN 

Cousin  Barnaby  had  not  yet  completed  his  list  of 
grievances  ere  he  retired  for  the  night. 

"  And  I  have  an  idea,  Caroline,  that  Susan  has  again 
forgotten  to  put  a  hot  bottle  in  my  bed." 

"  But  I  thought  — "  she  protested. 

"  Then  you  shouldn't  think !  "  he  interposed  rudely. 
"  I  hate  women  to  think  of  anything  —  except  of  mak- 
ing people  comfortable!  And  I  still  think  that  when 
I  go  upstairs  I  may  find  that  there's  no  hot  bottle  in 
my  bed." 

"  I'll  see  to  it,  Barnaby,"  said  Aunt  Caroline  meekly. 

"  And  put  Jasper  to  bed.  If  I  hear  any  more  of 
his  abominable  Latin  I  shan't  sleep  a  wink  all  night !  " 

"  Yes,  Barnaby." 

All  her  determination  seemed  to  have  vanished,  and 
she  was  no  more  likely  to  put  her  foot  down  than  poor 
Uncle  Jasper  himself.  Cousin  Barnaby 's  tyranny 
over  her  good  nature  and  her  weak  will  had,  in  spite 
of  all  resolutions  to  the  contrary,  not  received  the 
slightest  check  throughout  the  day;  in  fact,  it  had  as- 
serted itself  more  overpoweringly  than  ever,  and  to 
such  an  extent  that  now,  when  he  calmly  ordered  his 
hostess  to  take  his  host  up  to  bed,  neither  of  them  even 
thought  of  disobeying. 

Come  along,  Jasper,"  said  she,  taking  Uncle  Jas- 

115 


(( 


ii6  MEADOWSWEET 

per's  arm ;  "  your  bedtime  has  come  and  gone  by  long 
ago.  Come  to  bed  now!  Sir  Baldwin  will  excuse 
you." 

Thus  appealed  to,  Sir  Baldwin  Jeffreys  came  for- 
ward and  put  out  his  hand  with  cordial  farewell. 

"  I'll  say  good-night  and  farewell,"  he  said  pleas- 
antly, "  and  thank  'ee  again,  Mr.  Hemingford,  for  all 
your  kindness." 

"  Good-night,  good-night !  "  murmured  Uncle  Jas- 
per absently.  "  It  is  very  early  yet  to  say  good- 
night ! " 

"  The  hour  is  getting  late,"  he  said  kindly.  "  Mrs. 
Hemingford,  will  you  forgive  me  if  I  now  take  my 
leave?" 

"Must  you  really  be  going,  Sir  Baldwin?"  she 
asked. 

"  By  your  leave,  Mrs.  Hemingford." 

"  Your  horse  is  saddled,"  she  said,  "  and  Topcoat 
has  brought  him  round;  but  won't  you  change  your 
mind  again  and  wait  until  the  morning?  " 

"  Not  this  time,  thank  you,  Mrs.  Hemingford.  I 
must  indeed  be  going.  If  I  do  not  reach  Ash  ford  to- 
night I  cannot  start  for  London  early  to-morrow,  and 
my  business  is  pressing." 

"  You  must  have  something  hot  to  drink  before  you 
start." 

"No,  no;  I  thank  you!"  he  said,  laughing;  "your 
kind  hospitality  has  dealt  over  generously  with  me 
already.  I'll  just  say  good-night  to  Mr.  Hemingford 
and  then  make  an  immediate  start.  Please  don't  trou- 
ble further  about  me.  I  hate  to  give  you  all  this 
trouble  just  when  you  are  all  going  to  bed! " 


A  MUCH-WRONGED  WOMAN         117 

"  It  would  have  been  better  to  make  an  earlier 
Start,"  said  Cousin  Barnaby  blandly. 

"  Not  at  all !  ■ —  not  at  all !  "  rejoined  Aunt  Caroline. 
"  We  have  been  delighted  to  have  Sir  Baldwin's  com- 
pany !  If  you  will  excuse  me,  sir,  I'll  just  see  my  hus- 
band up  to  his  room,  else  he  would  be  giving  me  the 
slip,  and  I  would  find  him  an  hour  hence  perching  on 
the  top  of  a  ladder  and  quoting  Latin  at  a  pack  of 
stuffed  lizards.  Jasper,"  she  added,  "  Sir  Baldwin 
Jeffreys  is  bidding  you  farewell !  " 

"  Ah !  "  said  Uncle  Jasper  kindly,  "  I  am  sorry  you 
must  go,  Sir  Baldwin!  You  must  come  over  some 
day  when  you  have  more  leisure,  and  go  through  my 
collection  of  British  beetles.  It  is  the  finest  in  Eng- 
land ! " 

"Thanks,  Mr.  Hemingford;  I  shall  be  delighted!" 

*'  Come  along  to  bed  now,  Jasper !  "  said  Aunt  Car- 
oline. 

"  But  my  foot,  Caroline ! "  he  protested  meekly ; 
**my  foot — 'cr  —  you  said  I  was  to  put  my  foot 
down." 

"  Oh,  go  to  bed !  "  muttered  Cousin  Barnaby  irrita- 
bly. 

"Yes,  Barnaby.  Good -night  —  good -night  all! 
Nunquam  non  paratus  —  ever  ready  —  ever  ready !  " 

Boadicea  ran  up  to  him  and  kissed  him  tenderly,  for 
she  and  Uncle  Jasper  were  the  best  of  friends.  Olive 
yawned  as  she  kissed  him  good-night,  and  as  Aunt 
Caroline  led  him  away  he  murmured  pleasantly : 

"  Cedant  arma  togae  ■ —  we  yield  to  authority  —  to 
authority ! " 


ii8  MEADOWSWEET 

At  the  doof  Aunt  Caroline  turned  back  once  more 
to  Sir  Baldwin. 

"  I'll  not  say  good-night  yet,  Sir  Baldwin/'  she  said. 
"  I'll  be  back  to  see  you  start." 

Then  the  door  finally  closed  on  them,  and  Cousin 
Barnaby  gave  a  final  grunt : 

"  What  a  deal  of  fuss  there  is,"  he  said,  "  when  a 
married  man  goes  to  bed !  " 

"  The  only  thing,"  interposed  Lady  Jeffreys,  with  a 
yawn,  "  worth  doing  in  the  country  is  to  go  to  bed. 
Good-night,  child  I "  she  added,  turning  to  her  sister, 
"  I'll  to  my  room." 

"  May  I  come  with  you,  Olive?  "  pleaded  the  young 
girl  softly.  "  I  would  love  to  help  you  undress. 
May  I?" 

"If  you  like,"  replied  the  other  carelessly. 

"  I'll  run  and  see  that  your  room  is  in  order,  then." 

And  away  she  ran,  grateful  even  for  this  careless 
^vord  of  approval,  happy  to  be  of  service  and  to  bask 
in  the  presence  of  the  sister  whom  she  loved.  Here 
was  the  nature  that  was  always  prepared  to  give  of 
the  fulness  of  love,  and  content  to  take  the  crumbs 
of  affection  which  fell  from  a  careless  and  a  barren 
heart.  From  childhood  upwards  she  had  been  taught 
to  worship  and  admire  the  beautiful  elder  sister,  and 
it  had  never  even  entered  her  young  mind  to  expect 
anything  from  Olive  in  return,  save  perhaps  occasional 
approval  and  a  tacit  acceptance  of  her  whole-hearted 
devotion. 

She  was  a  woman  born  to  love,  rather,  perhaps, 
than  to  be  loved.  Her  heart  wa^  too  generous  to  ac- 
cept ;  it  was  forever  giving. 


A  MUCH-WRONGED  WOMAN         119 

Sir  Baldwin's  glance  followed  her  somewhat  wist- 
fully. He  could  not  help  at  this  moment  contrasting 
the  two  sisters  in  his  mind.  And  yet  —  how  strange 
and  perverse  is  human  nature !  —  whilst  giving  un- 
grudging admiration  to  little  Boadicea's  splendid 
qualities,  his  heart  found  a  hundred  excuses  for  Olive's 
selfishness  and  egoism.  His  love  for  her  had  never 
cooled,  in  spite  of  the  hard  trials  to  which  she  put  his 
devotion,  and  at  any  moment,  even  now  that  she  had 
so  wilfully  deceived  and  angered  him,  he  was  only  too 
ready  to  own  himself  in  the  wrong  and  to  sue  for  par- 
don, there  where  forgiveness  should  really  have  come 
from  him. 

He  had  stepped  out  into  the  hall  to  see  the  last  of 
little  Boadicea,  for  she  had  already  taken  more  formal 
leave  of  him,  and  he  was  standing  there,  still  and  with 
sorrow  and  doubt  in  his  heart,  when  Lady  Jeffreys 
casually  brushed  past  him. 

"  Farewell,  Sir  Baldwin,  since  you  must  go,"  she 
said  lightly,  and,  smothering  a  yawn,  "  I  wish  you  a 
pleasant  journey  and  a  more  comfortable  sojourn  in 
town  now  that  you  are  so  happily  rid  of  me." 

"  Surely,  Olive,"  he  retorted  earnestly,  even  whilst 
he  stretched  out  to  her  a  kindly,  generous  hand,  into 
which  she,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  carelessly 
placed  her  own,  "  surely  you'll  take  kinder  leave  of  me 
than  this?" 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  with  bored  indifference. 

"  What  would  you  like  me  to  say  ? "  she  asked 
coldly. 

"  Anything  that  your  heart  might  dictate." 
My  heart  is  too  sore,"  she  said,  "  and  too  deeply 


<c 


120  MEADOWSWEET 

wounded  to  dictate  anything  more  to  me  than  an  in- 
different farewell." 

"  Wounded  ?  "  he  retorted.  "  Great  God !  you  can 
talk  of  a  wounded  heart  when  for  months  now  you 
have  done  nothing  but  trample  on  my  devotion, 
sneered  at  my  love,  and  made  of  me  the  most  wretched 
of  men?  " 

"  And  what  have  you  done,  pray,  for  the  past  two 
years  but  angered  me  till  I  could  bear  it  no  longer? 
What  have  you  done  recently  but  flout  me  and  insult 
me  at  every  turn  until  I  have  become  the  laughing- 
stock of  society  and  an  object  of  pity  to  my  friends? 
Truly,"  she  added,  whilst  wrathful  tears  rose  to  her 
eyes,  "  if  marriages  are  made  in  Heaven,  some  of 
them  at  any  rate  are  finished  up  in  hell ! " 

Her  voice,  always  somewhat  high-pitched,  had  risen 
in  her  anger  until  it  echoed  right  round  the  oak-pan- 
elled hall.  Sir  Baldwin  cast  a  quick,  apprehensive 
glance  round  him,  and,  seeing  that  the  door  into  the 
parlour  was  open,  he  said  hastily : 

"Olive,  I  pray  you  —  be  careful  in  what  you  say! 
Someone  may  hear  you." 

"  Please  don't  mind  me ! "  came  in  placid  accents 
from  Cousin  Barnaby  in  the  parlour ;  "  there's  nothing 
I  enjoy  more  than  overhearing  a  matrimonial  squab- 
ble. It  causes  me  to  appreciate  more  keenly  the  fact 
that  I  am  a  bachelor." 

"  And  I  do  not  care  who  hears  me !  "  retorted  Olive 
defiantly.  "  I  have  no  cause  to  hide  my  misery  from 
anyone's  eyes.  You  make  it  patent  enough  to  every- 
body!" 

"  I?  "  he  ejaculated  in  surprise. 


A  MUCH-WRONGED  WOMAN         121 


tc 


Yes,  you ! "  she  said  in  tearful  anger,  whilst  sobs 
seemed  to  be  choking  her  throat.  "  Why  am  I  here 
now,  I  ask  you,  to  the  derision  of  half  London  and 
the  pity  and  contempt  of  all  my  friends?  You 
dragged  me  away  from  town  in  the  height  of  the  sea- 
son, whether  I  wished  to  come  away  or  not,  just  like 
a  child  who  has  been  naughty  and  is  being  sent  back 
to  school !  And  all  because  of  your  senseless,  insane 
jealousy !  I  cannot  look  at  a  man  or  speak  to  anyone 
in  a  friendly  manner  without  your  suspicions  of  my 
honesty  being  immediately  aroused.  You  do  not  seem 
to  realise  that  such  suspicious  jealousy  is  offensive  and 
insulting  in  the  extreme,  and  that  no  woman  with  the 
least  sense  of  pride  and  dignity  would  fail  bitterly  to 
resent  it.  Look  at  your  conduct  to-night ! "  she 
added,  lashing  herself  more  and  more  into  emotional 
fury,  and  becoming  more  and  more  unguarded  in  her 
language ;  *'  because  Lieutenant  Carrington  —  quite 
unknown  to  me,  on  my  honour !  —  happens  to  be  on 
matters  of  duty  in  this  neighbourhood,  and  to  be  in 
this  house  to-night,  your  conduct  becomes  so  offensive 
to  me  and  to  him  that  he  is  obliged  to  leave  directly 
after  supper,  and  all  the  servants'  tongues  now  are 
wagging  at  my  expense !  " 

This  last  attack  was  so  unexpected  that  It  left  Sir 
Baldwin  wholly  unprepared  and  very  much  bewil- 
dered. He  thought  that  he  had  done  his  best  to  hide 
the  mortification  which  he  had  felt  when  first  he  heard 
that  Lieutenant  Carrington  was  in  the  immediate 
neighbourhood  of  Old  Manor  Farm.  He  had  even 
prided  himself  on  how  well  he  had  succeeded  in  this, 
and  succeeded  in  persuading  his  over  indulgent  heart 


122  MEADOWSWEET 

that  Olive's  desire  to  spend  some  weeks  at  her  aunt's 
house  was  a  pure  matter  of  coincidence,  and  that  she 
had  known  nothing  of  Lieutenant  Carrington's  pres- 
ence in  Thanet  when  she  made  the  arrangement. 

He  had  also  been  so  much  amused  by  Boadicea's 
suddenly  altered  demeanour  that  he  had  really  paid 
but  little  heed  to  Lieutenant  Carrington.  His  wife's 
accusations,  therefore,  took  him  wholly  by  surprise. 
He  thought  that  indeed  he  must  have  shown  remark- 
able ill-temper  quite  unbeknown  to  himself. 

"  Surely,"  he  stammered,  feeling  profoundly  apolo- 
getic, "your  ladyship  is  pleased  to  exaggerate?  Be- 
lieve me,  I  — " 

*'  No,  no !  "  she  broke  in  vehemently,  "  I'll  take  no 
excuse!  My  heart,  as  I  remarked  before,  is  too 
deeply  grieved  for  words.  Your  horse  is  saddled," 
she  continued  a  little  more  calmly,  "  and  it  is  best 
that  you  should  go  now  —  your  absence  may  ease  the 
burden  of  my  sorrow  and  heal  the  wounds  which  your 
cruel  jealousy  has  dealt  me.     I'll  try  and  forget! " 

Here  she  almost  broke  down.  The  tears  were 
trickling  down  her  cheeks  and  emotion  had  gripped 
her  by  the  throat.  She  paused  a  moment,  making 
noble  efforts  to  control  herself,  and  her  face  now 
looked  singularly  pathetic  in  its  grief. 

"  But  please  go  now,"  she  whispered  with  sorrow- 
ful gentleness.  "  It  is  best,  I  think,  that  we  should 
be  parted  for  a  little  while,  and  I  am  afraid  that  I 
might  break  down  under  the  strain  of  so  much  trouble. 
No,  no ;  please  do  not  approach  me ! "  for  he  had  in- 
stinctively drawn  near  to  her  as  she  spoke.  "  I  could 
not  bear  it !  —  not  now.    ,Good-night !    Good-bye !  " 


A  MUCH-WRONGED  WOMAN         123 

Pressing  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes,  for  she  was 
crying  bitterly,  she  turned  away  from  him  and  slowly 
walked  upstairs.  Sir  Baldwin  himself  felt  overcome 
by  emotion.  Her  pathetic  appeal  had  gone  to  his 
heart;  he  felt  himself  to  be  a  brute  and  a  tyrant,  who 
had  wholly  misunderstood  the  simple  and  childlike 
nature  of  an  innocent  young  girl,  who  knew  nothing 
of  the  world,  and  whom  it  was  his  duty  to  protect  and 
not  to  render  miserable. 

He  watched  his  wife's  retreating  figure  with  an  ever- 
increasing  feeling  of  remorse  and  of  tenderness,  chid- 
ing himself  for  an  ill-mannered  lout  and  a  cruel  task- 
master. He  made  resolve  better  to  understand  her  in 
future,  to  be  more  forbearing  and  more  trustful.  It 
was  terrible  to  hear  her  sobs  dying  away  in  the  dis- 
tance as  she  mounted  the  stairs. 

"Is  she  often  taken  like  that?"  queried  a  bland 
voice  close  at  his  elbow. 


CHAPTER  XII 

A  JEALOUS  MAN 

Cousin  Barnaby  had  come  out  of  the  parlour,  and 
was  standing  beside  Sir  Baldwin.  He,  too,  seemed 
to  have  been  watching  Lady  Jeffreys's  retreating  figure 
as  she  went  upstairs. 

"Is  she  often  taken  like  that?"  he  reiterated,  nod- 
ding in  the  direction  of  the  door  through  which  Olive 
had  disappeared. 

"  No,  no !  "  replied  Sir  Baldwin,  who  seemed  some- 
what absent,  and  like  a  man  talking  to  himself  rather 
than  to  an  indifferent  listener.  "  No,  I  have  never 
seen  her  like  this  before  —  so  emotional  —  so  appeal- 
ing and  gentle  —  as  if  she  really  cared !  It  is  a  new 
phase  in  her  complex  character  which  I  had  not  ob- 
served before." 

"  A  new  fiddlesticks ! "  rejoined  Cousin  Barnaby 
calmly.  "As  for  me,  sir,  when  a  woman  begins  to 
cry,  I  immediately  begin  to  suspect ! " 

"  To  suspect  what?  "  queried  Sir  Baldwin  abruptly. 

"Mischief!"  replied  Mr.  Crabtree  curtly. 

"Mischief?" 

".Yes,  sir  —  mischief!  Women  live  in  mischief 
as  a  bird  does  in  feathers.  If  you  suspect  them,  you 
deceive  yourself;  if  you  don't,  they  deceive  you!  " 

Now,  we  all  know  that  there  is  nothing  on  earth  so 
eas;^  to  arouse  as  dormant  jealousy.     If  it  is  there, 

124 


A  JEALOUS  MAN  125 

iand  it  sleeps,  the  merest  whisper  will  awaken  it.  In 
a  moment  the  remorse  and  good  resolutions  of  a  while 
ago  fled  to  the  four  winds.  The  poisoned  sting  of  a 
venomous  wasp  had  wrought  its  evil  already. 

"  But  surely  you  don't  think  — "  murmured  Sir 
Baldwin. 

Then  he  paused,  for  he  was  ashamed  to  display  his 
jealous  suspicions  before  this  vulgar,  obese  creature, 
who  seemed  to  wallow  in  mischief -making  as  a  fly 
does  in  honey. 

"Oh!"  said  Mr.  Crabtree  blandly,  "I  don't  think 
anything!  I  came  here  for  peace,  and  the  very 
thought  of  clandestine  meetings  and  lovers'  intrigues 
is  abhorrent  to  me.  The  worst  of  it  is,  sir,  that  there 
are  too  many  women  about  the  place.  Women  and 
sailors,  as  I  have  remarked  to  you  before,  are  the  most 
peace-disturbing  elements  in  the  world !  That  fool 
Jasper  shouldn't  live  so  near  the  sea.  Inland  you  get 
the  women,  but  not  the  sailors.  I  had  a  bilious  attack 
once,  but  no  headache.     It  was  quite  tolerable." 

But  he  might  have  gone  on  rambling  along  in  his 
talk  like  this  for  hours.  Sir  Baldwin  was  paying  no 
attention  to  him;  he  was  nursing  the  aching  sting 
which  the  poisonous  wasp  had  left  in  his  heart. 

"  Tears,"  he  murmured,  "  tears !  " 

Then,  with  sudden  fury,  he  muttered  through 
clenched  teeth: 

"Oh,  if  I  thought  that!" 

All  his  wrath  had  returned,  and  his  jealous  suspi- 
cions were  fully  aroused.  It  was  strange  that  for  the 
second  time  to-day  these  strong  suspicions  should 
have  come  to  him  just  when  his  horse  had   been 


126  MEADOWSWEET 

brought  rouncl,  iand  he  had  been  ready  to  start.  It 
almost  seemed  as  if  Fate  was  giving  him  a  warning, 
telHng  him  not  to  go. 

But  now  surely  he  could  frame  no  excuse  for  delay- 
ing his  departure.  He  would  become  the  laughing- 
stock of  the  household  by  remaining  here  another 
twenty- four  hours.  He  could  not  stay  at  Old  Manor 
Farm,  guarding  his  wife  until  the  Dolphin  had  raised 
anchor,  and  in  the  meanwhile  he  would  be  incurring 
still  further  the  hatred  and  contempt  of  Olive. 

Aunt  Caroline  was  even  now  coming  down  the 
stairs  with  Sir  Baldwin's  mantle  on  her  arm  and  his 
hat  in  her  hand. 

*'  I  hope  I  haven't  kept  you  waiting?  "  she  said  as 
she  descended ;  "  your  mantle  and  hat  were  so  covered 
in  dust  I  had  to  give  them  a  brushing." 

"  Oh,  thank  you  so  much,  Mrs.  Hemingford ! "  said 
Sir  Baldwin,  rousing  himself  from  his  unpleasant 
meditations ;  *'  indeed,  I  seem  to  have  been  giving  you 
a  great  deal  of  trouble  to-day!  '* 

"  No,  no ;  it  was  no  trouble  1 "  she  said  in  her  usual 
fussy  way.  "  Do  come  into  the  dining-room  now.  A 
hot  stirrup-cup  awaits  you  there." 

"  No,  no !  A  thousand  thanks,  dear  Mrs.  Heming- 
ford, I  really  could  not  take  it !  " 

"  But  you  don't  look  well,  Sir  Baldwin !  Really  you 
should  just  take  something- — you  have  looked  upset 
all  the  day." 

"  Yes,  yes ;  just  a  little  upset,  dear  Mrs.  Heming- 
ford !  I  —  I  haven't  felt  quite  myself  all  to-day.  The 
heat,  I  think.  It's  nothing,  I  assure  you,  and  please 
don't  think  any  more  about  it." 


A  JEALOUS  MAN  127 

"  A  little  dandelion  root,"  she  suggested,  "  with  a 
dash  of  sweet  oil  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that  is  it !  "  he  said  more  cheerily ;  "  a  good 
household  remedy  is  all  I  want.  And  now  it  is  fully 
time  that  I  went.  A  thousand  pardons,  dear  Mrs. 
Hemingford!  I  ought  not  to  have  kept  you  up  so 
late!" 

She  helped  him  on  with  his  mantle  and  he  took  his 
hat  from  her. 

"  I  ought  to  have  gone  half  an  hour  ago !  "  he  added, 
cordially  shaking  hands  with  Aunt  Caroline  first  and 
then  with  Mr.  Crabtree,  who  responded  very  coolly. 
"  Good-night  again,  and  good-bye,  dear  Mrs.  Heming- 
ford!     And  —  and — " 

He  drew  nearer  to  her,  and  at  the  same  time  cast  a 
quick  glance  at  Barnaby  Crabtree,  to  see  if  he  were 
out  of  earshot. 

"  Yes,  Sir  Baldwin?  "  said  Aunt  Caroline,  who  felt 
still  a  little  anxious  about  him,  owing  to  his  agitated 
manner. 

"  You  will  look  after  Olive,  won't  you?  "  he  whis- 
pered. 

"  Of  course  we  will!  " 

"  You  don't  think  —  you  don't  really  think  that  she 
would  — " 

"That  she  would  what?" 

"  Nothing,  nothing !  "  he  concluded  hastily,  once 
more  shaking  her  by  the  hand.  "  Good-night,  Mrs. 
Hemingford !  " 

She  felt  a  little  puzzled,  and  gravely  shook  her  head 
as  she  went  to  open  the  front  door  for  him. 


128  MEADOWSWEET 

He  raised  his  hat  and  made  her  a  final  bow,  and  at 
last  went  out  into  the  night. 

The  full  moon  lit  up  the  narrow  white  lane  as  it 
went  winding  upwards  in  ribbonlike  curves  towards 
the  main  Ramsgate  road.  Every  tree  and  every  leaf 
upon  the  trees  stood  clear  and  distinct  against  the  in- 
tense blue  of  the  sky.  From  afar  came  the  soft,  in- 
cessant murmur  of  the  sea,  dashing  her  breakers 
against  the  white  cliffs  far  away.  Intense  peace 
reigned  all  round;  only  the  south  wind,  which  came 
breathing  gently  from  the  coast,  stirred  the  delicate 
leaves  of  the  poplars,  till  they  glittered  like  silver  in 
the  moonlight. 

When  Sir  Baldwin  Jeffreys  had  given  Topcoat  half 
a  sovereign,  and  was  mounted  ready  to  start,  he  caught 
Aunt  Caroline's  anxious  eyes  fixed  curiously  upon 
him.  She  was  standing  in  the  doorway,  and  he  bent 
down  from  his  saddle  as  if  he  desired  to  say  a  final 
word  to  her. 

She  came  up  to  him,  and  patted  his  horse's  neck, 
whilst  he  whispered  very  earnestly  to  her : 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Hemingford,  take  care  of  Olive!  She 
is  very  young  and  —  and  —  a  little  thoughtless.  I 
beg  of  you  to  keep  an  eye  on  her!  " 

The  tears  were  gathering  in  her  eyes,  for  he  spoke 
very  gently  and  sorrowfully;  and,  indeed,  she  was 
quite  sure  that  he  was  a  kind  man  and  Olive  very 
thoughtless  and  wilful. 

She  made  him  the  promise  which  he  asked  of  her; 
then  he  once  more  bade  her  farewell,  and,  pressing 
his  knees  against  his  saddle,  he  turned  out  of  the 
drive. 


A  JEALOUS  MAN  129 

Aunt  Caroline  watched  him  for  awhile  from  the 
doorway  with  the  puzzled  look  still  in  her  face. 

"  Dear  me !  "  she  sighed,  "  I  wonder  what  has  dis- 
turbed him?  What  a  strange  temper  he  was  in  all 
day,  to  be  sure !  —  at  times  so  furious  and  the  next 
moment  quite  sad  and  gentle.  There  he  goes !  "  she 
added,  as  Sir  Baldwin,  having  turned  out  of  the  gates 
into  the  lane,  set  spurs  to  his  horse  and  set  off  at  a 
gallop  — "  there  he  goes,  lashing  into  his  poor  horse  I 
I  wonder  now  what  has  upset  him?  " 

"  His  liver,  most  likely,"  said  Mr.  Crabtree  placidly. 
"  I  found  him  a  most  disturbing  person.  I  am  glad 
that  he,  at  least,  has  gone  away." 

And  Aunt  Caroline  having  lighted  his  candle  for 
him,  he  waddled  off  with  it  like  a  big,  fat  drake  to- 
wards the  stairs,  and  then  up  to  that  part  of  the  house 
where  his  bedroom  was  situated. 

But  Aunt  Caroline  shook  her  head.  She  was  not 
altogether  satisfied  in  her  own  mind.  However,  for 
the  moment  she  carefully  shut  and  bolted  the  front 
door,  then  she  called  loudly  to  Susan. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

A   FAIR   TEMPTRESS 

Susan  was  already  standing  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs,  candle  in  hand. 

"What  are  you  doing  there,  Susan?"  asked  Aunt 
Caroline  sharply. 

"  Nothing,  ma'am!  "  replied  Susan  with  a  grin. 

"  Then  leave  off  at  once,  and  close  up  for  the  night." 

"Yes,  ma'am!" 

Nominally  it  was  Susan  who  closed  up  for  the  night 
at  Old  Manor  Farm,  but  actually  it  was  Aunt  Caro- 
line who  saw  that  every  shutter  was  put  up  and  every 
bolt  gone  home.  Topcoat  fastened  all  the  outside 
gates  and  made  the  round  of  the  house,  lanthorn  in 
hand,  to  see  that  everything  was  safe  before  he  finally 
retired  for  the  night  in  the  little  cottage  which  closely 
adjoined  the  old  house. 

From  the  floor  upstairs  there  came  from  time  to 
time  the  sound  of  Cousin  Barnaby's  raucous  voice, 
calling  loudly: 

"Caroline!" 

"  Yes,  Barnaby !  "  she  would  shout  in  response ;  but 
she  made  no  attempt  to  go  upstairs  until  she  was  satis- 
fied that  all  the  closing  up  had  been  conscientiously 
done. 

Then  she  ordered  Susan  up  to  bed,  and  she  followed 
-—  the  last  to  go  up  —  first  paying  a  visit  to  Cousin 

130 


A  FAIR  TEMPTRESS  131 

Barnaby's  room  to  see  that  he  had  everything  he 
wanted,  then  knocking  at  Olive's  door  to  ask  if  she 
was  all  right,  then  going  into  Boadicea's  room  to  kiss 
her  "  good-night,"  and  finally  going  to  her  own  room, 
where  she  had  to  scold  Uncle  Jasper,  who  was  sitting 
up  reading  by  the  light  of  a  candle,  which  everyone 
knows  is  a  very  dangerous  thing  to  do  with  so  much 
dry  woodwork  about. 

At  last  every  noise  in  the  house  was  hushed.  It  was 
dark  from  attic  to  cellar,  and  soon  even  the  lights  which 
peeped  through  the  narrow  chinks  of  the  doors  of 
various  bedrooms  were  extinguished  one  by  one. 

Apparently  everybody  inside  Old  Manor  Farm  was 
asleep.  From  Cousin  Barnaby's  bedroom  came  the 
sound  of  vigorous  snoring,  but  otherwise  everything 
was  still.  From  outside  there  only  came  the  soft 
sighing  of  the  breeze  through  the  quivering  poplar 
leaves,  and  at  times  from  the  distant  marshes  the  call 
of  bittern  or  heron,  or  perhaps  the  lowing  of  a  cow 
in  distress. 

The  footsteps  of  Topcoat  had  resounded  for  awhile 
as  he  made  his  tour  of  inspection  round  the  house; 
then  these,  too,  died  away,  and  the  silence  of  the  night 
fell  upon  the  old  house  and  its  sleeping  inmates. 

Downstairs  in  the  hall  the  old  grandfather  clock 
struck  ten. 

Two  minutes  later  a  door  on  the  upstairs  floor  was 
very  softly  opened,  and  a  figure,  clad  in  diaphanous 
white,  emerged  tip-toeing  upon  the  landing.  Through 
the  windows  the  rays  of  the  moon  struck  full  on  this 
part  of  the  house,  throwing  into  bold  relief  the  top 
of  the  staircase,   with  the  closed  dog-gate,  and  the 


132  MEADOWSWEET 

richly  carved  balustrade,  and  the  dark  oak  doors  with 
their  knobs  of  shining  brass,  which  gave  on  the  sev- 
eral bedrooms  on  this  landing. 

Now  it  also  lit  up  with  its  soft,  silvery  light  the 
figure  of  Lady  Jeffreys,  candle  in  hand,  silently  cross- 
ing the  landing  and  noiselessly  descending  the  stairs. 

From  outside  came  the  muffled  sound  of  a  horse's 
hoofs  on  the  sandy  lane.  Olive  paused  halfway  down 
the  stairs,  listening  intently.  The  horse's  steps  had 
halted  just  outside  the  gates  of  the  drive.  She  waited 
a  moment  until  she  heard  a  man's  footsteps  on  the 
gravel,  then  she  ran  quickly  down  the  last  flight  of 
stairs,  shielding  the  light  of  the  candle  with  her  hand 
against  the  draught,  and  found  herself  in  the  hall  op- 
posite the  door  which  gave  on  the  museum. 

This  was  locked,  of  course,  and  bolted.  Olive  had 
to  put  the  candle  down  before  she  could  manage  to 
unfasten  all  the  bolts;  these  gave  her  a  good  deal  of 
trouble,  for  she  had  to  push  them  very  gently,  lest 
anyone  should  hear.  The  dogs  had  started  barking  in 
the  distant  cottage  gardens,  and,  to  Olive's  anxious 
mind,  it  seemed  as  if  presently  the  entire  household 
would  be  astir.  She  had  no  idea  that  a  nocturnal  visit 
in  a  country  house  would  be  fraught  with  quite  so 
much  danger  of  discovery. 

At  last  she  had  contrived  to  open  the  door  of  the 
museum,  and  she  now  found  herself  in  the  long,  nar- 
row room  with  fantastic  shapes  of  birds  and  beasts  all 
round  her,  the  tallow  candle  flickering  in  her  hand 
and  throwing  huge  grim  shadows  against  the  white- 
washed walls  and  the  raftered  ceiling. 

A  slight  sense  of  superstitious  terror  sent  a  cold 


A  FAIR  TEMPTRESS  133 

shiver  down  her  spine.  Great,  gaunt  arms  seemed  to 
be  pointing  at  her  from  every  corner  of  the  room,  and 
wide-open  jaws  to  be  gaping  at  her,  showing  polished 
white  teeth. 

One  of  the  dogs  at  Topcoat's  cottage  was  still 
growling,  but  the  others  further  away  had  apparently 
gone  to  sleep,  satisfied.  Shaking  off  her  nervousness, 
Olive  put  down  her  candle  and  boldly  went  to  the 
outer  door.  Here  she  found  less  difficulty  in  undoing 
the  bolts ;  though  large  and  heavy,  they  worked  easily 
in  their  sockets.  In  a  few  moments  she  had  undone 
them,  and  also  the  chain.  But  she  did  not  open  the 
door;  she  went  back  to  the  centre  of  the  room  and 
calmly  proceeded  to  light  the  lamp  which  stood  upon 
the  table. 

Whilst  she  was  thus  occupied,  there  came  a  knock 
at  the  outer  door.  She  said  "  Come  in! "  in  an  even 
voice,  and  finished  adjusting  the  wick  of  the  lamp 
until  it  burned  clear  and  bright. 

In  the  meanwhile  Lieutenant  Carrington  had  en- 
tered. He  was  looking  round  him  now,  somewhat 
bewildered,  and  when  Lady  Jeffreys  turned  to  him, 
and  impulsively  held  out  both  her  hands,  he  said  apolo- 
getically : 

"  A  thousand  pardons,  Lady  Jeffreys !  Am  I  very- 
late?  You  said  ten  o'clock,  did  you  not?  and  it  is 
only  a  few  minutes  since  I  heard  the  hour  strike  on 
Minster  tower." 

"  No,"  she  said  with  a  winning  smile,  "  you  are  not 
late.  Jack !  Just  in  time,  in  fact,  for  Mr.  Crabtree  is 
snoring  and  everyone  is  fast  asleep." 

*'  Then  let  me  acquit  myself  of  my  duty,"  he  re- 


134  MEADOWSWEET 

joined.  "  I  have  brought  your  letters,  Lady  Jeffreys. 
I  came  as  quickly  as  I  could,  but  when  I  saw  the  house 
looking  so  dark  and  quiet  I  was  half  afraid  to  come 
near." 

Whilst  he  spoke  he  was  fumbling  in  the  pocket  of 
his  coat,  and  presently  he  drew  from  it  a  packet  of 
letters  held  together  by  a  rose-coloured  band. 

"  It  was  very  presumptuous  of  me  to  keep  them  at 
all,  Lady  Jeffreys,  and  do  please  try  and  believe  me 
when  I  give  you  my  word  that  at  your  command  I 
would  have  destroyed  them  to-night,  and  thus  spared 
you  the  annoyance  of  this  visit  if  I  could." 

He  was  still  holding  the  letters,  but  she  made  no 
movement  to  take  them  from  him;  she  stood  for 
awhile  looking  at  him  with  eyes  that  seemed  to  shim- 
mer in  the  lamplight,  and  then  she  walked  deliberately 
to  the  sofa  and  sat  down. 

"  Come  and  sit  by  me,  Jack !  "  she  said  invitingly. 

"  But,  Lady  Jeffreys,"  he  urged,  "  do  you  not  think 
that  I  ought  to  be  going?  On  my  honour,  I  should 
not  have  come  at  all,  had  I  not  pledged  my  word  to 
you!  You  have  said  yourself  that  the  household  was 
abed." 

"  Well !  "  she  retorted  with  gentle  Irony,  "  and  are 
you  frightened  to  spend  a  little  time  alone  with  me?  " 

"  No !  But  I  think  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hemingford 
would  ill  approve  of  my  being  here  at  this  hour.  I 
feel  that  I  am  repaying  like  a  cad  their  kindness  and 
hospitality." 

"  And  has  it  never  struck  you.  Jack,"  she  said 
earnestly,  "  that  there  is  someone  in  the  world  more 
Important  than  yourself?" 


A  FAIR  TEMPTRESS  135 


(( 


There  are  thousands  of  people  in  the  world  more 
important  than  myself,  Lady  Jeffreys!  " 

"  Yet  you  only  think  of  yourself  at  this  moment! " 

"  I  don't  quite  understand." 

"  I  mean,"  she  said,  with  increased  vehemence, 
"that,  manlike,  you  have  talked  of  nothing  since  you 
came  into  this  room  but  of  your  honour,  and  your 
promise,  and  your  feelings  when  you  found  that  the 
household  was  abed,  and  your  return  for  Aunt  Caro- 
line's hospitality.  For  me  you  have  not  one  thought, 
not  one  consideration.  Think  what  I  have  risked  in 
the  past  few  months  in  order  to  give  you  pleasure! 
The  letters  which  now  lie  on  the  table,  which  you  have 
60  carelessly  thrown  aside,  testify  to  a  woman's  self- 
lessness as  against  man's  egotism.  I  did  not  give  a 
thought  to  my  own  reputation,  my  own  peace  of  mind, 
or  the  opinion  of  other  people;  but  I  thought  a  great 
deal  of  you.  Jack,  and  of  making  you  happy." 

"  You  have  made  me  very  proud,  Lady  Jeffreys, 
both  in  the  past  and  at  the  present  moment;  but  I 
should  prove  the  blackest  ingrate,  as  well  as  an  arrant 
scoundrel,  if  I  did  not  now  beg  your  leave  to  go!  " 

Unconsciously  Jack  Carrington's  voice  had  become 
more  trenchant  and  hard.  He  was  not  by  any  means 
the  unsophisticated  young  bumpkin  whom  Lady  Jef- 
freys could  hold  under  her  thumb.  He  had  realised 
by  now  that  he  had  been  trapped  into  this  anomalous 
position,  humiliating  to  any  man  of  feeling  and  of 
honour,  and  that  he  had  fallen  stupidly  into  the  trap 
from  which  now  he  would  find  it  very  difficult  to 
extricate  himself  without  leaving  behind  him  a  few 
shreds  of  his  own  self-respect. 


136  MEADOWSWEET 

"  You  shall  go  directly,  Jack,"  she  said,  holding  out 
her  hand  to  him  with  a  winning  gesture ;  "  but  not  just 
yet.  Come  and  sit  down  here  and  let  us  talk.  Five 
minutes,"  she  pleaded ;  "  there,  and  I  promise  you  that 
you  shall  go !  " 

Then  as  he  very  reluctantly  complied,  and  sat  down 
next  to  her,  feeling  angry  with  himself  for  what  he 
termed  his  weakness,  chiding  himself  for  his  stupidity, 
she  settled  herself  down  amongst  the  cushions  like  a 
kitten  that  has  found  a  comfy,  downy  place  in  which 
to  curl  up  contentedly. 

"  There  now !  "  she  said,  "  am  I  such  a  formidable 
ogress  that  you  should  be  afraid  of  spending  half  an 
hour  alone  with  me?  Come  now!  tell  me,  did  you 
not  guess  that  I  could  not  bear  to  part  from  you  whilst 
jealous  eyes  watched  our  every  movement?  " 

"  There  was  no  question  of  parting.  Lady  Jeffreys. 
I  hope  that  we  may  often  meet  again." 

"  How  cold  you  are !  I  thought  that  you  cared  for 
me.  Jack ! " 

"Lady  Jeffreys!" 

"  Why  not  call  me  Olive  ?  " 

"  Lady  Jeffreys !  "  he  said  firmly,  "  may  I  go  now?  " 

"Yes,  yes!  You  may  go  —  directly;  but  not  just 
yet,  and  not  —  not  like  this !  " 

She  was  leaning  towards  him,  her  eyes  seeking  his, 
the  tendrils  of  her  hair  brushing  against  his  cheek, 
her  hand  stealing  forward  to  meet  his. 

"  We  could  be  so  happy  together.  Jack,"  she  mur- 
mured, "  if  only  you  thought  a  little  less  of  yourself 
and  a  little  more  of  me!  You  don't  seem  to  under- 
stand how  a  woman  can  thirst  for  happiness  —  how 


A  FAIR  TEMPTRESS  137 

she  longs  for  some  response  to  the  burning  wishes  of 
her  heart !  Oh,  if  you  only  would  listen  to  your  heart, 
Jack,  which  —  I  know  it  —  I  feel  it  —  already  beats 
for  me! " 

And  two  lovely  white  arms  crept  round  Jack  Car- 
rington's  neck  and  a  pair  of  red  lips  asked  for  a  kiss. 
He  was  young  and  she  was  beautiful;  \vho  would  be 
Pharisaic  enough  to  condemn  him  if  just  then  his  heart 
was  softened  and  his  resolutions  gave  way  before  this 
charming  temptress,  who  offered  her  beauty  so  un- 
reservedly to  his  caress? 

Jack  Carrington  was  only  a  man ;  there  was  nothing 
of  the  saint  about  him,  and  he  was  heart-whole.  No 
other  woman's  image  interposed  itself  between  him 
and  the  exquisite  ripe  and  luscious  fruit  which  only 
asked  to  be  plucked  and  enjoyed. 

"Tell  me  —  just  once,  Jack  —  that  you  love  me!" 
she  whispered,  "  and  the  memory  of  your  voice  will 
make  me  happy  through  all  the  misery  of  loneliness 
which  I  have  to  endure !  Tell  me  —  just  this  once  — 
that  you  love  me,  and  then  I  promise  you  that,  if  you 
still  wish  it,  you  shall  go !  " 

It  is  said  —  and  oft  with  truth  —  that  the  whisper 
of  a  beautiful  woman  is  heard  above  the  loudest  call 
of  duty.  In  this  case,  though  the  woman  was  very 
beautiful,  duty  had  not  troubled  herself  much  about 
calling.  But  now  a  slight  noise  —  a  creak  upon  the 
stairs  —  suddenly  recalled  Jack  Carrington  to  himself, 
even  w^hen  temptation  seemed  to  be  stronger  than  he 
could  withstand. 

"  Hush !  "  he  said  quickly.     "  Listen !  " 

"  What  is  it,  Jack  ? "  she  whispered,  and  her  en- 


138  MEADOWSWEET 

circling  arms  tried  to  keep  him  by  her  side.  "  Is  it 
so  difficult  to  say  the  three  magic  words  which  will 
make  a  lonely  woman  happy?  Only  three  words, 
Jack  — *  I  love  you ! ' —  and  I  shall  be  satisfied !  " 

"  Hush,  I  say !  "  he  said,  suddenly  wrenching  him- 
self free  and  jumping  to  his  feet,  "  there's  someone 
at  that  door !  " 

This  time  she  obeyed,  and  the  passionate  words  of 
reproach  died  upon  her  lips.  Thus  for  a  moment  did 
they  both  remain  silent,  he  standing,  she  half-cower- 
ing on  the  sofa,  listening  intently,  with  every  sense 
strained,  scenting  the  danger  which  threatened  them, 
both  from  that  creaking  stair  and  the  muffled  footsteps 
which  were  heard  descending. 

Resolutely  Jack  walked  to  the  door  and  opened  it. 
The  next  second  he  had  drawn  instinctively  away 
from  that  open  doorway  back  into  the  shadow. 

Boadicea,  clad  in  a  loose  white  robe,  her  brown  hair 
falling  in  heavy  masses  over  her  shoulders,  was  stand- 
ing on  the  threshold. 


.CHAPTER  Xiy 

A  THIEF  IN  THE  NIGHT 

Olive  saw  her  sister  and  quickly  smothered  a  cry 
of  alarm.  She  stared  at  Boadicea  for  a  moment  or 
two  as  if  she  were  seeing  an  apparition,  or  perhaps  a 
somnambulist  whose  mental  consciousness  was  not 
present;  the  young  girl  certainly  made  no  movement 
to  enter  the  room.  She  could  not  from  where  she 
stood  see  Lieutenant  Carrington,  but  she  could  see 
her  sister,  and  was  gazing  on  her  with  wide,  terrified 
eyes,  which  gradually  softened  as  she  gazed  until  they 
became  appealing  and  gradually  filled  with  tears. 

"You?"  gasped  Olive  at  last,  when  she  realised 
that  the  young  girl  was  indeed  here  with  her  full  con- 
sciousness, and  obviously  with  some  definite  and 
earnest  purpose.     "  What  are  you  doing  here?  " 

"  I  heard  your  voice,  Olive,"  murmured  Boadicea, 
as  she  took  a  step  forward  into  the  room.  "  I 
knocked  at  the  door  once  or  twice,  but  you  didn't  hear 
me,  and  I  didn't  like  to  come  in." 

Now  she  had  seen  Jack  Carrington,  for  she  had 
turned  her  head  for  a  moment,  and  looked  him  straight 
in  the  face.  Her  eyes  expressed  nothing  as  she  did 
so  but  amazement,  and  they  wandered  from  her  sis- 
ter's face  to  that  of  the  young  man,  as  if  trying  to 
understand  something  which  was  beyond  her  compre- 
hension, 

139 


140  MEADOWSWEET 

Olive  was  the  first  to  recover  complete  mastery 
over  herself.  She  had  been  a  little  scared  by  her 
sister's  sudden  advent,  but  this  feeling  soon  gave  way 
under  a  sense  of  irritation;  she  was  angry  with  Boa- 
dicea  for  having  succeeded  in  frightening  her. 

"  So  you  thought  you  would  do  a  little  eavesdrop- 
ping, eh,  little  one?  "  she  said  acidly. 

"  No,  no,  Olive !  "  replied  the  girl,  who  indeed  now 
seemed  the  most  frightened  of  the  three.  "  I  came 
because  — " 

She  checked  herself,  for  her  voice  was  trembling, 
and  she  made  a  sudden  effort  to  speak  more  calmly. 
She  came  up  to  the  centre  table,  taking  no  notice  what- 
ever of  Jack,  and  quietly  facing  her  sister. 

"  I  couldn't  sleep  to-night,"  she  said,  "  and  sat  by 
my  open  window  —  until  just  now.  I  saw  a  man  on 
horseback  in  the  lane  —  he  dismounted  at  the  gate  and 
came  stealthily  round  the  house  to  the  yard." 

"  We  know  all  that,  child !  "  rejoined  Olive  care- 
lessly. "Lieutenant  Carrington  forgot  his  mantle 
when  he  left  earlier  in  the  evening,  and  he  came  back 
to  fetch  it.  I  also  happened  to  have  been  sitting  at 
the  open  window,  and,  seeing  him  arrive  at  so  late  an 
hour,  guessed  that  something  serious  had  brought  him 
back,  and  ran  down  to  open  the  door  for  him  before 
he  roused  the  entire  household,  which  he  had  been  on 
the  point  of  doing." 

Boadicea  listened  to  her  sister's  peroration  quite 
calmly,  then  she  gravely  shook  her  head. 

"No,  no;  I  was  not  thinking  of  Lieutenant  Car- 
rington's  arrival,  for  that,  too,  did  I  see ;  but  that  was 
some  time  before.     It  was  only  a  quarter  of  an  hour 


A  THIEF  IN  THE  NIGHT  141 

ago  that  I  saw  this  second  horseman  in  the  lane  — 
saw  him  dismount  at  the  gate  and  then  steal  round  to 
the  yard.  He  has  been  prowling  round  the  house  for 
some  time.  I  meant  to  call  Susan  at  first ;  then,  when 
I  was  on  the  landing,  I  thought  that  I  heard  your  voice 
coming  from  the  museum." 

"  Tush,  child,  you've  been  dreaming ! "  said  Olive, 
with  a  shrug  of  her  comely  shoulders.  "  Thieves  do 
not  arrive  on  horseback !  " 

"  Hark !  "  broke  in  Boadicea  hurriedly,  "  I  can  hear 
his  footstep  on  the  gravel  now.  He  is  at  the  front 
door." 

*' Miss  Boadicea  is  right!"  now  interposed  Jack 
Carrington  firmly.  "  There  is  someone  in  the  drive 
at  this  moment." 

Olive  suddenly  became  as  white  as  her  gown. 
There  are  moments  in  life  when  the  coming  danger  is 
so  potent,  so  terrible,  that  it  casts  the  shadow  of  an 
awful  prescience  over  the  mind.  Olive  now  saw 
through  the  thick  walls  of  this  house  —  saw  right 
through  the  darkness  of  the  night  the  owner  of  those 
footsteps  upon  the  moonlit  drive.  She  saw  the  ap- 
proaching danger,  and  fear  gripped  her  so  suddenly 
and  so  overwhelmingly  that  her  heart  stood  still  and 
her  limbs  felt  weighted  with  the  terrible  weight  of 
unreasoning  terror. 

"  Jack !  "  she  murmured  in  a  hoarse  whisper,  "  if 
it  should  be—" 

She  dared  not  breathe  the  name,  lest  its  very  sound 
realised  all  the  nameless  horror  which  held  her  almost 
physically  by  the  throat. 


142  MEADOWSWEET 

**  I'll  go  and  see !  "  said  Jack  Carrington,  resolutely 
turning  toward  the  hall. 

But  this  Olive  would  not  allow  —  not  without  a 
struggle  at  any  rate ;  she  would  not  see  her  fears  made 
real,  her  terror  become  tangible.  As  Jack  with  a  firm 
step  walked  towards  the  door  she  ran  to  him,  stretch- 
ing out  both  her  arms  and  clinging  to  him,  forcing 
him  to  pause.  At  first  she  could  not  speak;  a  half- 
inarticulate  cry  escaped  her  from  time  to  time,  an  ap- 
pealing "  No,  no !  "  and  a  vigorous,  entreating  shake 
of  the  head. 

Her  lips  and  tongue  were  so  dry  that  she  did  not 
seem  able  to  frame  the  words,  and  Boadicea,  forget- 
ting her  own  puzzlement  and  her  own  fears,  ran  to  the 
loved  sister  and  put  her  own  protecting  arms  round 
the  trembling  figure  with  a  gesture  that  was  quite 
motherly  in  its  encouraging  tenderness. 

"  Olive !  "  she  said  softly,  "  Olive,  dear,  what  is  the 
matter?" 

"  Don't  go,  Jack !  "  the  poor  frightened  woman  now 
contrived  to  say;  "  don't  go  to  the  door!  If  it  should 
be  Sir  Baldwin!  He  was  mad  with  jealousy  to-day; 
he  suspected  me,  perhaps,  and  has  set  a  watch  on  me. 
My  God!     If  it  should  be  he!  " 

Jack  Carrington  stood  for  a  moment  irresolute.  It 
was  pathetic  to  see  this  wretched  woman  clinging  in 
such  terror  to  him.  Instinctively  his  glance  sought 
that  of  Boadicea,  as  if  mutely  asking  her  advice  as  to 
what  was  best  to  be  done. 

There  came  a  loud  knocking  against  the  front  door. 
The  midnight  prowler,  whoever  he  was,  was  tired  of 


A  THIEF  IN  THE  NIGHT  143 

waiting  outside,  he  desired  to  enter.  Olive  smoth- 
ered a  cry  of  anguish. 

"  Listen !  "  she  murmured.  "  It  is  Sir  Baldwin,  I 
am  sure ! " 

"  But  why  should  you  thinic,  Olive,  that  it  is  Sir 
Baldwin  ?  "  urged  Boadicea,  in  a  quick,  encouraging 
whisper.     "  Let  me  go  and  see." 

"  No,  no,  child !  "  pleaded  Olive ;  "  don't  leave  me, 
don't  leave  me !  I  am  in  danger,  little  one  —  in  great 
danger!  If  my  husband  finds  me  here  at  night  — 
alone  with  Jack  —  he  may  kill  me!  —  he  may  kill 
me!" 

"  Olive !  "  exclaimed  the  young  girl,  horrified. 

The  knocking  at  the  front  door  was  repeated.  This 
time  it  was  more  loud  and  more  peremptory.  Lieu- 
tenant Carrington  and  Boadicea  looked  at  one  another 
with  a  feeling  of  utter  helplessness,  for  Olive  was 
clinging  to  the  young  man,  clutching  at  his  arm  with 
the  frenzied  strength  of  terror,  so  that  he  could  not 
move  from  where  he  stood. 

"  Lady  Jeffreys,"  he  urged,  "  I  do  entreat  you  to 
let  me  go  and  open  that  door!  Whoever  is  knocking 
there  will  rouse  the  house  if  I  do  not." 

But  she  paid  no  attention  to  him,  and  whilst  cling- 
ing to  him  she  made  heartrending  and  incoherent  ap- 
peals to  Boadicea. 

"  I've  done  no  wrong ! "  she  pleaded ;  "  but  Sir 
Baldwin  won't  understand.  I  swear  to  you  that  I've 
done  no  wrong!  You  believe  me,  little  one,  don't 
you  ?     Say  that  you  believe  me !  " 

"  Of  course,  I  believe  you,  Olive  dear;  but  do  allow 


144  MEADOWSWEET 

Lieutenant  Carrington  to  go  to  the  door.  I  am  sure 
Aunt  Caroline  will  hear,  and  will  be  coming  down 
directly." 

"  Promise  me  —  promise  me  first  that  you  will 
agree  with  everything  I  say  to  Sir  Baldwin." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  promise !  Do  go  and  open  the  door. 
Lieutenant  Carrington.  I  can  hear  Aunt  Caroline 
moving  overhead." 

The  knocking  now  was  peremptory  and  incessant; 
obviously  it  was  bound  to  rouse  the  household  sooner 
or  later.  At  Boadicea's  promise  Olive  released  Lieu- 
tenant Carrington's  arm;  he  went  out  of  the  room 
quickly,  and  his  firm  step  was  heard  crossing  the  hall. 
Within  the  next  few  seconds  he  was  busy  with  the 
bolts  and  bars  of  the  front  door. 

"  Hush !  Listen !  "  whispered  Olive,  when  Jack 
Carrington  slipped  the  chain,  and  said  in  an  audible 
whisper : 

"  Who  are  you  ?     What  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  I  am  Sir  Baldwin  Jeffreys !  "  came  the  loud  re- 
sponse.    "  Open  the  door  before  I  smash  it  in!  " 

A  shiver  ran  through  Olive's  frame,  and  she  gath- 
ered up  round  her  shoulders  the  filmy  folds  of  a  lace 
scarf  which  she  wore.  Her  cheeks  and  lips  were  of 
a  dull  ashen  hue  and  her  eyes  were  dilated  so  that  they 
looked  dark  and  cavernous  in  her  pale  face. 

"It  is  Sir  Baldwin!"  she  murmured.  "You  will 
help  me,  child.     You  swear  it?" 

"  I  swear  it,  Olive !  "  said  the  girl  simply. 

Now  the  sound  of  men's  voices  speaking  in  anger 
and  contempt  rang  right  through  the  house. 

"Sir  Baldwin  Jeffreys?" 


A  THIEF  IN  THE  NIGHT  145 

"  Stand  back,  man ;  stand  back !  " 

"  One  moment,  Sir  Baldwin !  " 

"  Not  one  instant,  man !     Let  me  pass !  " 

"  Not  before  I  know  — " 

"  You  shall  know  nothing  until  I  have  dealt  with 
her !     Let  me  pass,  or  — " 

But  during  this  brief  colloquy  Olive  had  quite  re- 
gained her  calm.  Hastily,  whilst  this  brief  passage  of 
arms  went  on  in  the  hall,  she  had  readjusted  the  tum- 
bled folds  of  her  gown  and  passed  her  fingers  over 
the  lines  of  her  face,  as  if  instinctively  trying  to 
smooth  them  away.  She  composed  her  lips  into  a 
conventional  smile,  and  with  a  great  effort  she  steadied 
the  trembling  of  her  limbs. 

Thus  Sir  Baldwin  saw  her,  when,  with  a  loud  curse 
and  a  volent  gesture  of  uncontrollable  rage,  he  pushed 
past  Lieutenant  Carrington  and  strode  to  the  door  of 
the  museum. 

"  Olive !  "  he  thundered  loudly,  as  soon  as  he  caught 
sight  of  her,  "Olive!  —  as  I  suspected,  by  all  that's 
damnable ! " 

She  confronted  him  quite  calmly,  allowing  him  a 
full  view  of  her  clear  eyes  and  the  contemptuous  smile 
on  her  lips.  He  looked  wretched  and  over-tired,  his 
eyes  had  dark  rings  round  them,  and  a  slight  foam  ap- 
peared at  the  corners  of  his  mouth.  He  was  hatless, 
and  his  iron-grey  hair  was  matted  against  his  temples. 
His  clothes  and  boots  were  covered  with  mud,  and  in 
his  clenched  hand  he  grasped  his  heavy  hunting  crop. 

So  evil  and  wrathful  did  he  look  that  Boadicea's 
fears  all  returned  to  her;  she  no  longer  wondered  that 
Olive  had  been  so  frightened  when  first  she  suspected 


146  MEADOWSWEET 

that  it  was  Sir  Baldwin  who  had  unexpectedly  re- 
turned. There  was  such  a  wild  look  in  his  eyes  that  it 
was  obvious  that  he  had  not  full  consciousness  of  his 
actions,  and  the  expression  of  fury  in  his  face,  to- 
gether with  his  threatening  gestures,  showed  that  a 
dangerous  mood  was  on  him,  which  might  drive  him  to 
some  awful  and  desperate  deed. 

He  looked  at  no  one  except  at  his  wife,  and  as  he 
looked  on  her  the  whites  of  his  eyes  became  bloodshot 
and  a  curious  hissing  sound  escaped  from  his  throat. 

There  was  silence  for  a  second  or  two  whilst  he 
stood  in  the  doorway,  preparing,  no  doubt,  for  ven- 
geance, whilst  Boadicea  felt  that  the  beatings  of  her 
heart  must  be  heard  through  this  awful,  this  appalling 
stillness;  then  suddenly  Olive's  high-pitched  voice 
broke  the  solemn  silence  with  a  long,  rippling  laugh. 

"  Well,  upon  my  word !  "  she  said  lightly,  "  this  is 
a  surprise!  Where  are  your  manners.  Sir  Baldwin, 
falling  into  my  uncle's  house  at  this  hour  of  the  night? 

—  and  in  such  guise,  too !     Why,  look  at  your  boots  I 

—  and  what  in  the  world  have  you  done  with  your 
hat?" 

"  I'll  apologise  for  my  manners.  Lady  Jeffreys,"  he 
replied,  trying  to  contain  himself,  and  speaking  in  a 
voice  that  trembled  with  rage,  "  when  you  have  ex- 
plained to  my  satisfaction  how  you  happen  to  be  alone, 
and  at  this  hour  of  the  night,  with  Lieutenant  Car- 
rington,  when  the  rest  of  the  house  is  in  bed!  " 

*'  The  rest  of  the  house!  "  she  exclaimed,  with  well- 
feigned  astonishment;  "and  do  you  quite  ignore  my 
sister  Boadicea?  " 

"  Truce  to  this  nonsense,  Lady  Jeffreys ! "  he  re- 


A  THIEF  IN  THE  NIGHT  147 

torted  roughly;  "and  if  you  have  any  shame  left  in 
you,  leave  your  innocent  sister's  name  out  of  this 
matter!" 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  with  contemptuous  in- 
difference. 

"  My  aunt  and  uncle  are  coming  downstairs,"  she 
said;  "  are  you  proposing  to  insult  me  before  the  en- 
tire household?  " 

"  What  explanation  is  necessary,  sir,"  here  inter- 
posed Lieutenant  Carrington,  "  I  am  prepared  to  make. 
I  hold  myself  entirely  at  your  service;  but,  for  the 
ladies'  sake,  I  entreat  you — " 

"  Sir,"  broke  in  the  irate  man,  "  with  you  I  mean  to 
deal  later!  For  the  moment  I  demand  an  answer 
from  her ! " 

And  he  pointed  a  resolute  hand  at  his  wife.  The 
next  moment  he  took  a  quick  step  forward,  and  with 
that  same  hand  seized  her  wrist  so  violently  that  she 
gave  a  quick  cry  of  pain. 

"  My  God !  "  he  exclaimed  hoarsely,  "  I  mean  to 
have  that  answer  now !  " 

"  You  shan't  touch  her !  "  cried  Boadicea  defiantly, 
as  she  put  her  arms  round  her  sister,  and,  like  a  young 
cat,  was  ready  with  fingers  and  nails  to  defend  her 
against  her  assailant,  whoever  he  might  be;  "you 
shan't  touch  her!  She's  done  no  wrong!  I  tell  you, 
she  has  done  no  wrong !  You  shan't  hurt  her !  —  you 
shan't!" 


CHAPTER  XV 

A   BELOVED   SISTER 

Even  whilst  Boadicea  was  screaming  defiance  at 
Sir  Baldwin,  like  a  wild  animal  protecting  its  young, 
heavy  footsteps  were  heard  coming  down  the  stairs. 
The  household,  aroused  originally  by  Sir  Baldwin's 
knocking  at  the  door,  had  quickly  tumbled  into  some 
clothes.  Aunt  Caroline  was  the  first  to  seize  a  candle 
and  to  drag  Susan  out  of  her  room  after  her.  She 
picked  up  a  poker,  prepared  to  fight  an  army  of  bur- 
glars, not  recognising  the  voice  of  Sir  Baldwin  Jeff- 
reys, and  thinking  that  wholesale  murder  was  being 
done  downstairs.  Uncle  Jasper,  too,  had  struggled 
into  his  breeches,  vaguely  wondering  what  all  this  dis- 
turbance was  about;  but,  since  his  wife  had  called  him, 
he  followed  her  meekly  down  the  stairs.  Barnaby 
Crabtree,  furious  at  being  disturbed,  had  also  jumped 
out  of  bed,  and  he  now  stood  on  the  threshold  of  his 
own  room,  volleying  a  string  of  expletives  at  every- 
body. 

"  What  the  —  why  the  —  how  the  — " 
Curiosity  getting  the  better  of  his  laziness,  he,  too, 
followed  in  the  wake  of  Uncle  Jasper,  and  it  was  a 
motley  crowd  of  terrified  humanity  that  poured  into 
the  museum,  and  stood  there  gaping  in  hopeless  be- 
wilderment at  Sir  Baldwin  Jeffreys  and  Olive,  at  Lieu- 
tenant Carrington  and  Boadicea,     Aunt  Caroline,  in  a 

148 


A  BELOVED  SISTER  149 

crimson  flannel  dressing-gown,  with  her  hair  done  up 
in  innumerable  tiny  plaits,  which,  being  tight  and  stiff, 
stood  out  all  round  her  head  like  the  prickles  of  a 
porcupine ;  Uncle  Jasper,  in  tight  black  knee-breeches, 
his  thin,  bare  feet  shoved  into  a  pair  of  buckled  shoes, 
his  high-crowned  bald  head  adorned  with  a  white  cot- 
ton nightcap,  his  pale  eyes  blinking  in  the  glare  of  the 
lamp. 

And  Barnaby  Crabtree,  like  an  angry  turkey-cock, 
muttering  incessantly : 

"  Why  the  —  what  the  — 

"Why  in  thunder  does  not  someone  explain?"  he 
shouted  at  last. 

"  The  explanation  is  simple  enough,"  said  Olive 
calmly.  "  Sir  Baldwin  Jeffreys,  having  left  his  com- 
monsense  and  his  manners  behind,  has  chosen  this  ex- 
traordinary hour  and  place  in  which  to  insult  me !  " 

"Insult  you?"  retorted  Sir  Baldwin  scornfully. 

He  looked  somewhat  like  a  bear  in  a  pit  now,  who 
has  been  chained  up  and  is  unable  to  do  all  the  mischief 
which  it  had  intended.  Clearly  he  could  not  murder 
his  wife  in  the  presence  of  all  these  people.  But  his 
wrath  had  not  abated,  even  though  it  could  not  find 
sufficient  vent  for  the  moment. 

"  Insult  you?  "  he  reiterated  savagely. 

"  Yes,"  she  retorted,  "  to  insult  me !  Your  insane 
jealousy  has  put  us  all  into  a  ridiculous  and  anomalous 
position.  Boadicea,  child,"  she  continued,  quietly 
turning  to  her  sister,  and  taking  her  by  the  hand, 
"  will  you  explain  to  this  —  this  raving  madman  — 
that  I  came  down  here  half  an  hour  ago  in  order  to 
play  gooseberry  to  you  ?  " 


150  MEADOWSWEET 

"  For  Boadicea?  "  exclaimed  Sir  Baldwin. 

"  Yes,  for  Boadicea.  Is  there  anything  very  ex- 
traordinary in  this?  Come,  little  one,  don't  be  shy! 
Sir  Baldwin  apparently  does  me  the  honour  to  imagine 
that  I  am  lying.  Will  you  assure  him  that  I  speak  the 
truth?" 

"  Olive  is  speaking  the  truth,  Sir  Baldwin,"  said 
Boadicea  firmly. 

Her  cheeks  were  very  pale,  but  her  voice  was  quite 
steady.  She  understood  at  once  what  her  sister  de- 
sired of  her,  and  she  accepted  the  humiliating  role 
without  demur. 

*'  But  what  does  it  all  mean  ? "  exclaimed  Aunt 
Caroline,  whose  brain  worked  very  slowly  at  all  times, 
but  more  especially  at  this  hour  of  the  night,  when  all 
self-respecting  folk  should  be  in  bed. 

"  Dictum  sapienti  sat  est,"  murmured  Uncle  Jasper, 
who  felt  it  incumbent  on  himself  to  assert  his  author- 
ity at  this  juncture — "  a  word  to  the  wise  is  enough." 

"  Don't  fuss,  Aunt  Caroline !  "  said  Olive ;  "  there's 
no  harm  done  in  this  except  the  irreparable  harm  done 
to  me  through  Sir  Baldwin's  unjustifiable  conduct! 
As  for  Boadicea,  I  assure  you  that  she  was  quite  all 
right  —  were  you  not,  little  one  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Olive,  I  was  quite  all  right." 

"  Is  it  to  be  wondered  at  that  her  head  was  turned 
by  Lieutenant  Carrington's  attentions?  She  gave  him 
this  rendezvous ;  but  I  am  sure  she  meant  no  harm." 

She  was  quite  motherly  in  her  manner  toward 
Boadicea,  stroking  the  child's  loose  hair  with  a  gentle 
hand.  But  across  Boadicea's  bowed  head  she  threw 
warning  looks  to  Jack  Carrington,  who  seemed  every 


A  BELOVED  SISTER  151 

moment  on  the  verge  of  giving  away  the  whole  infa- 
mous trickery,  which  aimed  at  a  pure  woman's  repu- 
tation, in  order  to  safeguard  that  of  a  miserable  co- 
quette. 

"  You  gave  Lieutenant  Carrington  this  rendezvous, 
did  you  not,  little  one?'*  she  insisted  with  tender  so- 
licitude. 

"Yes!" 

"  Fortunately,  I  could  not  sleep  to-night.  I  heard 
the  child  creep  out  of  her  room,  and  I  followed,  so,  of 
course,  there  was  no  harm  done.  These  two  young 
people  are  very  thoughtless.  Aunt  Caroline;  but  they 
acted  in  the  innocence  of  their  hearts.  At  any  rate,  I'll 
vouch  for  Boadicea !  " 

"  Child,  child !  "  said  Aunt  Caroline  sternly,  "  how 
could  you  so  far  forget  your  modesty?  " 

"  And  then  get  caught  in  the  act ! "  growled  Mr. 
Crabtree  spitefully. 

"  Deprendi  miserum  est  —  it  is  sad  to  be  found  out," 
said  Uncle  Jasper  under  his  breath. 

Olive  now  turned  triumphantly  to  Sir  Baldwin  Jeff- 
reys. 

"  You  see,"  she  said  coldly,  "  how  simple  it  all  is, 
and  how  your  furious  jealousy  has  brought  scandal 
on  the  child." 

"  It  will  be  the  talk  of  Thanet!"  said  Cousin  Bar- 
naby  placidly. 

"I'll  never  survive  It!"  murmured  Aunt  Caroline 
through  her  tears. 

Boadicea  said  nothing.  She  hung  her  head,  endur- 
ing passively  Olive's  motherly  caresses,  and  wondering 
in  her  heart  why  this  public  disgrace  had  been  put  upon 


152  MEADOWSWEET 

her,  and  why  Olive  —  beautiful,  exquisite,  perfect 
Olive  —  should  have  taken  the  trouble  to  tell  such  a 
lie  about  her,  seeing  that  from  this  time  forth  the 
whole  countryside  would  know  that  she  was  a  forward 
minx,  who  gave  rendezvous  to  young  men  at  dead  of 
night.  But  for  this  she  cared  little.  Olive  had  been 
in  grave  danger  at  the  hands  of  her  husband.  She 
had  done  no  wrong,  and  yet  her  life  had  been  threat- 
ened by  him,  and  it  was  only  this  tale  of  Boadicea's 
disgraceful  conduct  which  had  averted  a  terrible  catas- 
trophe. 

Therefore,  though  she  wondered  at  the  cruelty  of 
the  whole  thing,  she  was  quite  willing  to  endure  it,  so 
long  as  Olive's  safety  required  it.  She  was  a  little 
ashamed  to  meet  Lieutenant  Carrington's  eyes,  but  at 
the  same  time  she  felt  bitterly  resentful  against  him. 
If  Olive  had  done  no  wrong,  he  certainly  had  by  com- 
ing to  this  house  at  night,  since  coming  to  a  house  at 
night  was  more  wrong  than  coming  to  it  in  the  day- 
time. 

But  for  his  presence  here  and  now,  Sir  Baldwin's 
advent  would  not  have  mattered  in  the  least.  Olive 
would  not  have  been  so  frightened,  and  Boadicea 
would  never  have  been  put  face  to  face  with  the  terri- 
ble alternative  either  of  betraying  her  own  sister  or  of 
standing  ashamed  before  all  these  people. 

"And  now  that  we  have  cleared  this  simple  mat- 
ter," concluded  Olive  finally,  "  perhaps  you,  Sir  Bald- 
win, will  be  pleased  to  depart,  and  allow  this  respecta- 
ble household  to  go  peaceably  back  to  bed." 

"  Simple  matter,  do  you  call  it?  "  retorted  Sir  Bald- 
win, who  throughout  this  while  had  been  still  nursing 


A  BELOVED  SISTER  153 

his  jealous  suspicions ;  ''  a  simple  matter  that  a  young 
girl  —  my  wife's  own  sister,  and  scarce  out  of  the 
nursery  —  should  have  been  thus  ready  to  cast  aside 
her  honour,  and  but  for  your  interference  might  have 
brought  lasting  disgrace  upon  us  all!  " 

"  Hold  on,  man !  "  protested  Lieutenant  Carrington 
in  a  loud  voice ;  "  hold  on,  or  I'll  make  you  swallow 
your  own  words !  " 

"  I'll  not  hold  on,  sir !  "  retorted  Sir  Baldwin  hotly ; 
"  and  'tis  you  should  be  made  to  swallow  every  lying 
word  with  which  you  induced  a  thoughtless  girl  to 
forget  her  duty.  You  came  like  a  thief  in  the  night, 
prowling  about  a  respectable  house  in  order  to  rob  it 
of  its  most  precious  possession  —  the  honour  of  its 
child ! " 

'*  Nay,  here  do  I  brand  you  a  liar,  Sir  Baldwin,  and 
stand  at  your  service  when  you  will!  But  before  I 
have  the  opportunity  of  making  you  eat  your  words, 
understand  from  me  that  Miss  Aldmarshe  deigned  to 
grant  me  an  interview  to-night  in  the  presence  of  Lady 
Jeffreys,  her  sister,  because  I  had  told  her  that  to-mor- 
row my  ship  will  raise  anchor  and  sail  for  the  Medi- 
terranean, and  ere  I  left  Thanet  I  desired  to  beg  from 
her  the  honour  of  her  hand  in  marriage." 

"And  she  refused  you?"  sneered  Sir  Baldwin, 
whilst  his  mirthless,  harsh  laugh  echoed  along  the  old 
oak  rafters.  "  Ah,  I  have  you  there !  —  the  pretty 
story  indeed !  It's  not  true,  I  tell  you !  —  it's  not  true ! 
You  are  all  lying  —  every  one  of  you !  And  I  am  not 
to  be  fooled  with  such  a  likely  tale.  You  asked  for  an 
interview  at  dead  of  night?    You  asked  for  her  hand 


154  MEADOWSWEET 

in  marriage,  and  she  refused  you?     It's  not  true,  I 
say !  —  it's  not  true !  " 

"  It  is  quite  true,  Sir  Baldwin,''  said  Boadicea  very 
quietly.  "  Lieutenant  Carrington  did  ask  for  my  hand 
in  marriage  —  and  I  have  accepted  him." 

There  was  dead  silence  after  that.  The  young  girl 
stood  alone  in  the  midst  of  a  circle  of  gaping  faces,  six 
pairs  of  eyes  gazed  on  her  in  mute  astonishment.  But 
she  never  flinched.  Olive's  life  and  happiness  had 
been  in  danger,  and  she  had  been  shown  the  way  how 
to  avert  the  catastrophe.  It  was  no  use  making  any 
sacrifice  by  halves.  As  to  the  future  —  well,  that  was 
in  God's  hands!  He  would  see  to  it  that  no  grave 
harm  came  to  her  through  the  intensity  of  her  love  for 
her  sister.  On  the  whole,  the  situation  which  she  her- 
self had  so  boldly  created  at  the  last  moment  was  more 
endurable  than  the  former  one,  and  she  would  not  al- 
low Lieutenant  Carrington  to  be  more  ready  for  sacri- 
fice than  she  was  herself.  After  this,  though  she 
would  still  be  blamed,  her  reputation  would  not  be 
irretrievably  tarnished,  and  Aunt  Caroline  and  Uncle 
Jasper  could  still  hold  up  their  heads  among  the  neigh- 
bours; and  she  felt  that  she  had  earned  Olive's  love 
quite  completely  now,  for  Sir  Baldwin  hung  his  head, 
thoroughly  himiiliated,  and  even  began  murmuring 
vague  words  of  apology. 

Tis  no  use  doing  that  now,"  said  Olive  coldly; 
the  sooner  you  return  to  Ashford,  the  kinder  it  will 
be  to  my  uncle  and  aunt,  whom  your  jealous  temper 
has  so  unwarrantably  disturbed.  As  for  me,  only 
your  prolonged  absence  could  teach  me  how  to  forgive 
you!" 


(t 


A  BELOVED  SISTER  155 

These  were  the  last  words  which  reached  Boadicea's 
consciousness.  After  that  everything  became  blurred. 
She  felt  just  as  if  she  were  in  a  dream.  Aunt  Caro- 
line and  Cousin  Barnaby  were  dream-people,  so  were 
Olive  and  Sir  Baldwin,  and  she  herself  felt  as  if  she 
were  one  of  those  dolls  that  are  made  to  move  by  in- 
visible hands  pulling  the  strings.  She  seemed  to  have 
no  wish,  no  thought,  no  feeling,  save  one  immense 
longing  to  fly  to  her  room,  to  lock  the  door,  and  to 
throw  herself  on  her  bed  —  not  to  sleep,  but  to  cry. 
She  felt  terribly  sad,  with  a  great,  big  ache  in  her 
heart,  just  as  if  she  had  lost  something  that  was  in- 
finitely dear  to  her.  The  worst  of  it  was  that  she  did 
not  know  what  it  was  that  she  had  lost;  all  that  she 
knew  was  that  something  was  gone  —  something  that 
had  made  everything  much  more  beautiful  than  it  had 
ever  been  before,  something  that  had  gilded  the  sunset 
and  flicked  the  tiny  clouds  with  rose,  something  that 
had  tinged  the  meadows  with  glorious  colour,  and 
caused  the  tone  of  the  nightingale's  voice  to  sound 
infinitely  sweet. 

But  that  was  long,  long  ago;  now  that  something 
was  gone.  She  knew  that  it  would  never  come  back ; 
that  in  the  future  the  sunset  would  be  grey  and  the 
meadows  brown,  and  that  she  could  never  again  bear 
to  hear  the  song  of  the  nightingale  without  the  big 
ache  coming  back  to  her  heart. 

She  did  not  know  that  what  she  had  lost  was  just  a 
girlish  illusion  —  the  first  peep  into  that  land  where 
love  dwells,  a  land  where  everything  is  covered  with 
glory,  where  every  cloud  is  of  a  roseate  hue  and  every 
song  is  a  "  Hosanna ! "     She  had  had  just  one  little 


156  MEADOWSWEET 

peep  through  the  curtains  of  life,  and  had  seen  just 
enough  to  guess  how  beautiful  was  that  land  of  love. 
Now  the  curtains  had  fallen  back  with  a  swish,  and 
she  had  drawn  back,  miserable  and  deceived. 

All  that  night  she  lay  back  on  her  pillows,  wide-eyed 
and  wrapped  in  thought.  She  could  not  understand 
why  she  was  so  sad. 

Her  engagement  to  Lieutenant  Carrington  would 
only  be  a  farce.  She  would  only  make  it  last  for  as 
long  as  Olive  thought  it  desirable,  for  the  sake  of  ap- 
pearances, and  to  allay  completely  Sir  Baldwin's  sus- 
picions. After  that  —  Lieutenant  Carrington  being 
probably  away  on  the  Mediterranean  with  his  ship  — 
the  mock  engagement  would  be  comfortably  broken  off 
without  any  fuss,  and  everything  would  be  just  as  it 
had  been  before. 

But  Boadicea  knew  all  the  time  that  nothing  would 
ever  be  again  just  as  it  had  been  before. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

AN   IMPERTINENT  YOUNG   MAN 

'After  that  there  came  for  Boadicea  many  days  of 
blank  weariness,  days  when  Aunt  Caroline  fussed 
round  her,  talking  of  trousseaux  and  a  house  in  town, 
whilst  Olive  would  scarcely  say  a  kind  word  to  her. 

Lieutenant  Carrington  would  call  every  afternoon  at 
about  five  o'clock  and  stay  to  supper,  and  then  ride 
away  again  at  eight  o'clock.  During  those  two  or 
three  hours  he  would  either  sit  in  the  museum  talking 
to  Uncle  Jasper,  or  Olive  would  insist  on  his  walking 
out  with  her  in  the  orchard, 

Boadicea  would  take  her  sewing  into  the  museum, 
whilst  Jack  was  there,  and  make  an  occasional  remark 
when  he  addressed  himself  directly  to  her.  But  she 
did  not  join  him  and  Olive  when  they  walked  together 
in  the  orchard.  She  had  a  great  deal  to  do  in  the 
house  helping  Aunt  Caroline  with  jams  and  pickle- 
making,  and  she  really  felt  in  the  way  when  Olive  and 
Jack  were  together. 

She  never  knew  what  to  talk  about,  especially  when 
Olive  was  present,  for  then  the  conversation  ran  chiefly 
on  town  topics,  the  balls  and  receptions  of  the  season, 
the  health  of  the  King,  or  bits  of  scandal  about  people 
whom  she  did  not  know.  When  Olive  was  not  there 
it  was  a  little  easier,  for  Jack  was  interested  in  birds 
and  their  nests,  and  could  tell  her  about  tropical  birds 

157 


158  MEADOWSWEET 

which  he  had  perceived  in  the  distant  lands  which  he 
had  visited,  and  about  nests  which  were  good  to  eat. 

In  fact,  it  was  when  Lieutenant  Carrington  told  her 
about  the  Chinese  people  eating  birds'  nests  that  she 
looked  him  straight  in  the  face,  being  highly  interested 
and  very  much  amused,  and  that  she  saw  his  twinkling 
grey  eyes  fixed  upon  her  in  such  a  manner  that  the 
blood  rushed  up  to  her  cheeks,  and  she  was  obliged  to 
put  her  work  down  very  suddenly,  and  to  run  out  of 
the  room  on  some  paltry  pretext. 

She  did  not,  of  course,  know  how  long  this  mock 
engagement  was  to  last.  Once  she  spoke  about  it  to 
Olive,  who  said  that  a  month  would  be  quite  sufficient, 
and  that  it  would  be  best  to  wait  until  Lieutenant  Car- 
rington's  leave  was  up  and  he  went  away  on  his  ship  in 
the  first  week  of  July.  Olive  declared  then  that  the 
matter  would  be  quite  easy;  no  one,  she  said,  disliked 
the  present  silly  position  more  than  Lieutenant  Car- 
rington, and  he  would  arrange  to  break  off  the  mock 
engagement  quite  easily  from  Malta.  He  would  find 
some  suitable  pretext,  and  write  the  usual  letter  of 
regret. 

At  the  back  of  Old  Manor  Farm,  beyond  the  yard 
and  all  the  barns,  there  was  a  small  orchard,  with  a 
strawberry  bed  that  sloped  to  the  south,  and  was  in 
full  bearing  long  before  any  other  strawberry  bed  in 
the  whole  of  Thanet.  Beyond  the  strawberry  bed 
came  the  cherry  and  the  plum  trees,  and  these  in  spring 
were  like  a  fairy  garden.  Now  the  cherries  were  ripe, 
and  soon  it  would  be  the  turn  of  the  plums. 

By  the  time  that  the  plums  were  ripe  Boadicea's  en- 
gagement would  have  been  a  thing  of  the  past,  and  by 


AN  IMPERTINENT  YOUNG  MAN      159 

the  time  that  the  apples  were  stored  in  the  fruit-room 
she  would  no  doubt  have  forgotten  all  about  this 
weary,  dreary  time. 

It  was  now  the  second  day  of  July,  and  the  very 
hottest  weather  that  Thanet  had  experienced  within 
memory  of  man.  Fruit  was  very  plentiful  and  very 
early,  strawberries  had  been  a  glut  in  the  market,  and 
now  cherries  were  threatening  to  be  the  same.  It 
seemed  hardly  worth  while  picking,  when  cherries  in 
Covent  Garden  Market  only  fetched  twopence  a 
pound. 

But  then  Aunt  Caroline  cared  nothing  about  Covent! 
Garden  Market,  nor  about  the  price  of  fruit.  Cherries 
were  ripe  and  plentiful  and  made  excellent  jam,  and  as 
Topcoat  had  to  dig  up  some  early  potatoes,  Boadicea 
had  to  gather  cherries  for  jam. 

She  had  been  gathering  for  over  an  hour,  and  the 
weather  was  terribly  hot.  Aunt  Caroline  had  said 
that  tea  would  be  in  the  orchard,  and  Susan  had  com- 
menced operations  in  that  direction  by  bringing  a  huge 
tray  on  which  was  laid  out  Aunt  Caroline's  best  tea- 
service,  the  one  with  the  tiny  rosebuds  dotted  all  over 
it,  even  over  the  inside  of  the  cups. 

A  very  large  basket  filled  to  the  brim  with  cherries 
was  deposited  at  the  foot  of  the  biggest  cherry-tree  in 
the  orchard.  It  was  a  big  grand  fatherly  kind  of  tree, 
with  huge  gnarled  branches  and  a  massive  trunk  which 
you  could  not  span  round  with  your  two  arms. 
Against  this  grandfatherly  old  tree  was  propped  a  lad- 
der, and  on  the  most  solid  branch  of  the  tree  with  her 
back  resting  against  the  trunk  sat  Boadicea,  reading  a 
book. 


i6o  MEADOWSWEET 

She  was  very  tired  and  very  hot,  for  she  had  been 
on  the  top  of  the  ladder  for  over  an  hour;  the  book 
was  very  interesting.  It  was  called  "  The  Last  Days 
of  Pompeii,"  and  had  just  been  published  by  Sir  Ed- 
ward Bulwer.  Lieutenant  Carrington  had  brought  it 
one  day  for  her,  and  she  was  deeply  absorbed  in  the 
thrilling  tale  of  love  and  adventure,  and  for  the  mo- 
ment quite  oblivious  of  the  fact  that  to-morrow,  the 
third  of  July,  H.M.S.  Dolphin  would  set  sail  for  the 
Mediterranean,  and  her  mock  engagement  to  Lieuten- 
ant Carrington  would  then  be  virtually  at  an  end. 

She  had  really  been  counting  the  days  ever  since  she 
had  first  known  that  Lieutenant  Carrington  would  be 
leaving  definitely  on  the  third  of  the  month.  She  had 
even  reckoned  that  he  would  be  in  Thanet  just  long 
enough  to  taste  Aunt  Caroline's  strawberry  jam,  and 
to  hold  the  ladder  whilst  she,  Boadicea,  climbed  up  to 
gather  the  cherries.  Now  he  had  held  the  ladder  for 
her  to-day,  Aunt  Caroline  was  going  to  open  the  first 
of  her  pots  of  strawberry  jam  for  tea,  and  Lieutenant 
Carrington  was  going  away  to-morrow  for  good. 

Boadicea  up  in  the  fork  of  the  cherry-tree  was  very 
busy  forgetting  all  about  Glaucus  and  Nydia,  the  blind 
girl,  and  the  marble  halls  of  Pompeii.  She  was  also 
extremely  busy  in  watching  Lieutenant  Carrington, 
who,  in  his  turn,  was  very  earnestly  occupied  in  carry- 
ing Aunt  Caroline's  best  china  tea-service  from  the 
place  where  Susan  had  deposited  it  to  another  spot, 
immediately  at  the  foot  of  the  grand  fatherly  cherry 
tree  on  the  branch  of  which  perched  Miss  Boadicea. 

He  had  arrived  to-day  a  little  earlier  than  usual, 
seeming  very  exhilarated,  like  a  schoolboy  who  has 


AN  IMPERTINENT  YOUNG  MAN      i6i 

had  an  extra  holiday  allotted  to  him.  The  twinkle  of 
merriment  in  his  grey  eyes  had  been  more  pronounced 
than  it  had  been  for  a  long  time,  a  circumstance  which 
Boadicea  immediately  attributed  to  his  rejoicing  at 
thought  of  his  getting  away  from  the  anomalous  posi- 
tion which  —  as  Olive  said  —  he  so  heartily  disliked. 

However,  she  had  taken  but  very  little  notice  of  him, 
and  soon  left  him  talking  with  Olive  in  the  museum,  on 
the  subject  of  Lady  Something-or-Other's  partiality 
for  Captain  Something-Else.  That  is  to  say,  that 
Olive  talked  about  Lady  Something-or-Other,  whilst 
Jack  listened  with  apparent  interest,  and  always  with 
that  bright  tw^inkle  in  his  eyes. 

Boadicea  had  thus  left  them  and  went  to  gather  cher- 
ries, until  she  was  tired,  when  she  took  up  her  book 
which  she  had  taken  out  with  her,  and  settled  herself  in 
the  branches  of  the  cherry-tree. 

Cousin  Barnaby  Crabtree,  who  wallowed  In  heat  like 
a  frowsy  torn  cat,  usually  took  his  afternoon  siesta  in 
the  orchard,  sitting  at  the  foot  of  that  same  grand- 
fatherly  tree  which  sheltered  Boadicea;  he  was  sitting 
there  now,  with  handkerchief  over  his  head,  snoring 
like  one  of  those  new  steam  engines  which  dragged  car- 
riages along  between  Stockton  and  Darlington. 

It  was,  therefore,  all  the  more  remarkable  why  Lieu- 
tenant Carrington,  the  moment  he  came  out  into  the 
orchard  —  which  he  did  half  an  hour  before  tea  time 
—  should  busy  himself  in  placing  Aunt  Caroline's  best 
china  tea-set  at  the  foot  of  this  self-same  tree. 

However,  Lieutenant  Carrington  and  his  doings 
were  no  concern  of  Boadicea's,  and  for  quite  a  long 
while  she  watched  him  as  he  carefully  disposed  the 


i62  MEADOWSWEET. 

cups  and  saucers  and  the  plates  all  round  the  foot  of 
the  tree,  some  quite  close  to  Cousin  Barnaby,  who 
would  be  sure  to  knock  the  cups  over  if  he  stirred.  At 
last  curiosity  got  the  better  of  indifference. 

"  Might  I  inquire,  Lieutenant  Carrington,"  she  asked 
politely,  "what  you  are  doing?  " 

"As  you  see,  Miss  Aldmarshe,"  he  replied  with 
equal  politeness,  "  I  am  disposing  of  your  aunt's  best 
china  in  a  convenient  place." 

"  I  do  not  think  it  at  all  a  convenient  place,"  she 
said  stiffly. 

"  Extremely  convenient.  Miss  Aldmarshe,  I  assure 
you." 

"For  tea?'* 

"  Exactly.  For  tea.  The  tree  is  shady,  the  ground 
flat  around  it.     It  is,  indeed,  a  most  convenient  spot." 

"  But  there  is  no  cloth  laid  here  for  tea." 

"  True !  "  he  said ;  "  but  I  can  soon  remedy  that," 

And  he  turned  back  to  where  some  few  yards  higher 
up  Susan  had  originally  deposited  the  tray,  and  from 
whence  the  gleam  of  a  folded  white  cloth  could  be  seen 
among  the  trees. 

He  went  to  fetch  the  cloth,  and  was  back  again  with 
it  in  a  few  seconds.  Then  he  once  more  busied  him- 
self with  the  china. 

"  Please  don't  tire  yourself.  Lieutenant  Carrington," 
said  Boadicea  from  above,  "  if  you  desire  to  have  tea 
under  this  tree,  we  can,  of  course,  have  it  here.  But 
Susan  can  lay  the  cloth.  She  will  be  back  directly. 
Please  do  not  tire  yourself  doing  her  work." 

"  I  feel  no  fatigue,  I  assure  you." 

But  his  work  had  become  somewhat  aimless.     At 


AN  IMPERTINENT  YOUNG  MAN      163 

least  so  it  appeared  to  Boadicea.  He  moved  the  cups, 
and  the  saucers  and  the  plates  from  one  place  to  an- 
other and  back  again,  but  he  was  not  really  attempting 
to  lay  the  cloth  for  tea  in  a  proper  and  methodical 
manner.  It  irritated  her  to  see  him  fussing  about  like 
this,  and  yet  he  would  not  give  up,  in  spite  of  what  she 
said.  And  he  seemed  quite  happy  in  his  task,  for  his 
eyes  twinkled  with  merriment  every  time  they  met 
hers. 

"  Why  doesn't  Susan  come  back  ?  "  she  said,  and 
sighed  audibly  with  impatience. 

"  I  wonder  I "  he  said  calmly,  and  went  on  rattling 
the  cups  and  saucers. 

*'  I  told  her  to  come  back  at  once  with  the  toast  and 
bread  and  butter." 

"  And  I  told  her  just  now  not  to  let  me  see  her  face 
for  at  least  ten  minutes." 

"  Why  should  you  have  told  her  that  ?  " 

"  For  private  reasons  of  my  own." 

"  Then  it  was  extremely  foolish  to  give  her  such  or- 
ders.    And  I  doubt  if  she  will  obey  them." 

"  Oh !  she  will  obey  them,  I'll  warrant.  I  took  good 
care  of  that.  I  should  call  Susan  a  discriminating 
young  female." 

"  And  I  should  call  you  most  impertinent  for  Inter- 
fering with  the  orders  which  I  gave  to  Susan." 

Now,  Boadicea  must  have  been  feeling  very  cross 
indeed,  or  she  would  not  thus  have  departed  from  the 
customs  of  politeness  prescribed  by  good  breeding  to- 
wards a  gentleman  who  but  a  little  while  ago  had  been 
and  who  in  another  twenty- four  hours  would  once 
more  become  a  complete  stranger. 


i64  MEADOWSWEET 

But  Lieutenant  Carrington  seemed  totally  unaware 
of  the  fact  that  he  had  offended  Miss  Aldmarshe,  for 
he  did  not  show  that  due  sense  of  humility  which  her 
reproof  should  have  called  forth  in  him;  on  the  con- 
trary, he  said  quite  imperturbably,  and  with  consum- 
mate politeness : 

"  Miss  Boadicea  Aldmarshe,  you  are  a  marvellous 
judge  of  character:  I  am  extremely  impertinent." 

"  Then  I  pray  you  mend  your  ways !  "  she  retorted. 

"  Not  while  you  are  perched  on  that  tree." 

"Why  not?" 

He  came  close  to  the  foot  of  the  ladder,  and  as  it 
was  leaning  against  the  tree,  so  did  he  lean  up  against 
it,  and  his  merry  grey  eyes  were  fixed  on  a  point  some 
three  or  four  feet  lower  than  Miss  Boadicea's  face. 

"  Because,"  he  said,  and  she  could  see  his  lips,  and 
could  see  that  they  twitched  —  not  with  shame  or  re- 
gret, I'll  be  bound  — *'  because  if  I  were  not  imperti- 
nent I  would  not  dare  to  watch  at  this  moment  the 
daintiest  pair  of  .  ,  ," 

"  Lieutenant  Carrington !  "  she  broke  in  sternly. 

And  still  he  was  neither  rebuffed  nor  ashamed. 

"If  you  wriggle  about  so  much,"  he  said,  "  you  will 
surely  fall." 

And  he  actually  mounted  two  rungs  of  the  ladder. 

"  I  wish  to  descend,"  she  said  stiffly ;  "  I  pray  you 
stand  aside." 

But  he  did  not  stand  aside.  He  so  far  misconstrued 
her  commands  that  he  mounted  two  further  rungs  of 
the  ladder. 

"  I  have  not  the  remotest  desire  to  stand  aside,"  he 
said.     "  You  don't  know,  perhaps,  what  a  charming 


AN  IMPERTINENT  YOUNG  MAN      165 
picture  you  make  perched  up  there  among  the  cher- 


ries ! " 


"  I  wish  Susan  would  come  back  I  "  retorted  she, 
With  a  sigh. 

"If  she  does,  before  I  have  told  you  something  that 
IS  in  my  mind,  I  will  either  commit  murder  or  .  .  ." 

"Or  what?" 

By  way  of  a  reply,  he  mounted  several  further  rung,3 
of  the  ladder,  until  his  head  was  just  below  the  level 
of  Boadicea's  knees. 

"On  the  whole,"  he  said,  looking  boldly  into  her 
face,  "  I  think  that  this  is  the  wiser  course." 

"  Lieutenant  Carrington,"  she  commanded,  "  I  re- 
quest you  to  descend." 

"  I  will  not  descend  until  you  have  heard  what  I 
have  got  to  say." 

"  There  Is  nothing  that  you  could  say  to  me  at  this 
moment  that  would  interest  me." 

And,  very  ostentatiously,  she  spread  her  book  upon 
her  knees,  and  began  once  more  to  read  about  Glaucus 
and  Nydia,  and  the  marble  halls  of  Pompeii. 

"Oh I  I  can  wait!"  said  Lieutenant  Carrington 
airily. 

And  he  settled  himself  down  on  the  top  of  the  lad- 
der, astride  on  the  branch  against  which  it  rested,  and 
leaned  back  his  head  against  the  trunk.  He  took  off 
his  hat  and  threw  it  down  amongst  the  china  cups  and 
saucers.  Then  he  actually  began  to  whistle!  —  yes, 
whistle !  and  with  Miss  Aldmarshe  bubbling  over  with 
wrath  by  his  side. 

"Very  warm  summer  we  are  having,"  he  said 
lightly. 


1 66  MEADOWSWEET 

"  Very/' 

She  was  absorbed  in  her  book,  and  he  was  absorbed 
in  the  contemplation  of  her.  Never  had  she  looked  so 
pretty,  not  even  to  him,  who  had  been  feasting  on  her 
beauty  these  weeks  past,  whenever  chance  or  her  wil- 
fulness allowed  him  to  gaze  upon  her  undisturbed. 
She  had  on  a  white  muslin  frock,  and  the  strong  after- 
noon sun  striking  through  the  leafy  branches  of  the 
tree  made  patches  of  gold  upon  it,  and  caused  blue 
shadows  to  nestle  in  the  folds.  Her  soft  brown  hair 
was  a  little  wild  after  the  fruit-picking,  and  a  very 
gentle  breeze  stirred  the  curly  tendrils  all  round  her 
head,  making  them  shimmer  and  quiver  in  the  intense 
brilliancy  of  the  light. 

.  Her  face  now  was  bent  down  to  her  book,  and  he 
could  just  see  the  still  childish  contour  of  cheek  and 
chin,  with  the  vivid  red  lips  and  the  pearly  shadows 
cast  by  the  drooping  lashes. 

Pretty?  My  God!  but  she  was  pretty!  and  Lieu- 
tenant Carrington  was  no  longer  heart-whole.  For 
days  and  weeks  now  she  had  filled  his  entire  heart  and 
mind  and  soul  until  he  positively  ached  with  the  wild 
desire  to  fold  her  in  his  arms,  to  raise  her  chin  up  with 
his  hand  until  her  eyes  looked  straight  into  his ;  those 
eyes  that  were  so  true,  so  pure,  so  full  of  the  knowl- 
edge of  nature  and  of  God,  so  ignorant  of  the  world. 

But  up  to  now  he  had  never  dared  speak  to  her  of 
love.  She  seemed  such  a  child  that  he  almost  feared 
to  trust  his  happiness  to  words  that  might  scare  her, 
that  might  not  reach  her  soul.  For  days  and  weeks  he 
had  waited  patiently  for  the  tiny,  almost  impercepti- 
ble sign  that  would  tell  him  that  he  might  speak.     Her 


AN  IMPERTINENT  YOUNG  MAN      167 

blush  the  other  day  when  he  was  talking  about  Chinese 
birds'  nests,  her  confusion  when  some  of  his  worship- 
ful admiration  had  on  that  occasion  spoken  mutely 
through  his  eyes,  her  quaint  stiffness  when  first  she 
met  him  again  after  that  episode,  and  her  subsequent 
avoidance  of  him  was  the  first  of  encouragement  which 
he  had  received. 

With  it  had  come  hope,  and  to-day  Chance  had 
played  into  his  hands.  Lady  Jeffreys  had  a  bad  head- 
ache and  had  gone  to  her  room  for  half  an  hour's  rest 
before  tea,  and  Boadicea  was  alone  perched  like  a 
w^ood-nymph  in  the  branches  of  a  tree. 

The  orchard  was  silent,  too,  in  the  heat  of  this  after- 
noon; the  buzz  of  bumble  bees  alone  disturbed  the 
peaceful  stillness  around.  Lieutenant  Carrington  was 
lost  in  a  dream  from  which  he  was  suddenly  awak- 
ened by  a  loud  and  prolonged  snore  which  came  from 
below. 

Boadicea,  too,  was  startled,  and  nearly  dropped  her 
book,  which  would  have  been  calamitous  to  Aunt  Caro- 
line's best  china  tea-service. 

"  Mr.  Crabtree  makes  a  pretty  picture  down  there, 
does  he  not?"  said  Jack  Carrington,  in  an  easy  con- 
versational tone. 

"  Lieutenant  Carrington,"  she  rejoined  Impatiently, 
"  did  you  hear  me  remark  that  I  wished  to  descend?  " 

"  I  did  hear  you  make  that  observation.  Miss  Ald- 
marshe,"  he  replied. 

"  Yet  you  have  made  no  attempt  at  letting  me  pass." 

"  The  attempt  would  be  beyond  my  humble  capaci- 
ties." 

I  wish  to  use  that  ladder,  Lieutenant  Carrington." 


(( 


i68  MEADOWSWEET 


(( 


It  is  at  your  service,  Miss  AldmarsHe,  if  you  will 
put  that  book  aside  and  listen  to  me  quietly  for  ten 
minutes." 

"  That  were  beyond  my  humble  capacities !  *'  she  re- 
torted. 

"  In  that  case,  I  fear  me  that  the  ladder  will  remain 
inaccessible  to  the  prettiest  little  feet  in  England." 

"  Then  I'll  jump !  "  she  said  resolutely,  and  turning 
her  back  on  him  and  on  the  ladder. 

But  with  a  comical  air  of  reproach,  he  pointed  down- 
wards to  his  own  elaborate  arrangement  of  tea-cups 
and  saucers  round  the  foot  of  the  tree. 

"  What !  "  he  exclaimed  — "  on  Aunt  Caroline's  best 
china?  ...  or  into  Mr.  Crabtree's  lap  —  which?" 

"  I  think  you  are  odious !  "  she  said. 

"  Absolutely  odious !  "  he  assented.  "  Hadn't  you 
better  listen  to  what  I  have  to  say  ?  " 

"  I  cannot !  You  are  sure  to  talk  nonsense,  and 
Cousin  Barnaby  hates  to  hear  nonsense  talked." 

Whereupon  Cousin  Barnaby  gave  forth  a  mighty 
snore. 

"  *  Out  of  their  own  mouths  thine  enemies  confound 
thee'!"  quoted  Jack,  triumphantly;  "and  out  of  my 
mouth  only  wisdom  shall  come,  I  promise  you." 


"  Another  time !  "  urged  Boadicea. 


There  never  is  another  time.  You  make  a  point  of 
never  being  alone  with  me." 

"  I  do  not  see  that  there  is  any  occasion  for  you  to 
see  me  alone." 

"  But  I  go  away  to-morrow." 

"  I  know  that.  All  the  more  reason  why  we  should 
not  see  too  much  of  one  another  to-day.     The  less  we 


AN  IMPERTINENT  YOUNG  MAN      169 

are  together,  the  easier  it  will  be  to  carry  on  this  foolish 
pretence  another  twenty-four  hours." 

*'  Foolish  pretence?  "  he  asked. 

"  Indeed,  what  else  is  it?  " 

"  A  serious  engagement." 

"  Pshaw ! "  and  she  tried  by  the  expression  in  her 
face  to  show  him  all  the  contempt  which  she  felt  for 
that  so-called  engagement. 

"  I  asked  you  in  the  presence  of  several  witnesses," 
he  persisted,  "  for  the  honour  of  your  hand  in  mar- 
riage, and  in  the  presence  of  several  witnesses  you 
accepted  me  as  your  future  husband." 

"  You  know  quite  well,  Lieutenant  Carrington,  that 
you  only  asked  me,  and  I  only  accepted  as  you  say,  in 
order  to  save  Olive  from  Sir  Baldwin's  unreasoning 
jealousy.  We  are  going  through  the  pretence  of  an 
engagement  to  save  appearances;  and  you  will,  of 
course,  be  glad  when  that  pretence  no  longer  binds 
you.  As  we  are  going  to  break  off  this  mock  engage- 
ment in  a  few  days,  there  is  no  cause  to  hold  conversa- 
tions about  it." 

"  There  is  every  cause  for  me  to  tell  you  some  time 
during  the  next  few  hours  exactly  how  pretty  you  are." 

"  Your  original  estimate  of  me  was  that  I  was  a 
young  savage." 

"  That  was  a  long  time  ago." 

"  One  month  ago  exactly,  to  the  day." 

"  Is  it  as  long?  Well,  since  then  many  things  have 
changed." 

"  Including  your  estimate  of  me?  "  she  asked  iron- 
ically. 

"No!     Not  that" 


170  MEADOWSWEET 

"  You've  not  come  to  the  conclusion  that  I  am  not  a 
savage  ?  " 

"  No.  I've  merely  discovered  that  there's  nothing 
in  the  world  so  fascinating  as  a  young  savage." 

Again  that  look  in  his  eyes ;  they  did  not  only  twin- 
kle, they  glowed,  and  —  worse  still  —  they  caused  her 
cheeks  to  glow.  She  would  have  given  worlds  to  be 
able  to  run  away;  but  he  had  possession  of  the  ladder, 
and  Aunt  Caroline's  best  china  was  down  below. 

"Ah!"  she  exclaimed  suddenly;  "there's  someone 
coming  at  last." 

"  The  devil !  "  he  retorted. 

"  And  Cousin  Barnaby  is  awake ! "  she  added  tri- 
umphantly. 

This  was  true.  Cousin  Barnaby  even  at  this  mo- 
ment was  heard  to  yawn,  and  was  seen  to  remove  the 
handkerchief  from  the  top  of  his  head. 

I  am  afraid  that  this  time  Jack  emphatically  said : 
"Damn!" 

"  Kindly  allow  me  to  descend,"  resumed  Boadlcea 
quietly. 

He  made  pretence  to  be  making  way  for  her. 

"  On  one  condition,"  he  said. 

"What  is  it?" 

"  That  you  give  me  ten  minutes'  private  interview 
in  this  orchard  some  time  this  afternoon." 

"  There's  no  necessity,"  she  said  firmly. 

"  Very  well." 

And  once  more  he  Installed  himself  on  the  top  of  the 
ladder  as  if  he  had  no  intention  of  stirring  from  that 
uncomfortable  position. 

Tears  of  vexation  rose  to  Boadicea's  eyes. 


AN  IMPERTINENT  YOUNG  MAN      171 

"  Olive  is  coming  this  way !  "  she  pleaded. 

"  Ten  minutes !  "  he  pronounced  resolutely. 

"Oh,  very  well!" 

The  citadel  had  capitulated.  Lieutenant  Carring- 
ton  began  descending  the  ladder,  whilst  Boadicea 
watched  him  impatiently.  Midway  down  the  ladder 
he  paused : 

"  Alone,"  he  said. 

"If  you  insist." 

"  I  insist.     You  promise  ?  " 

"I  .  ,  .  ohl  here's  Olive!" 

"  You  promise  ?  " 

**  I  promise.     There  1 " 


CHAPTER  XVII 

'A  MAN   IN   LOVE 

Olive  came  walking  down  the  orchard  in  her  pret- 
tiest afternoon  gown,  and  with  a  rose-coloured  sun- 
shade held  above  her  head. 

She  was  looking  her  best  just  now  and  she  knew  it, 
and  when  a  woman  knows  that  she  is  pretty,  that 
knowledge  makes  her  a  thousand  times  prettier  than 
before.  Lieutenant  Carrington  was  going  away  to- 
morrow; he  would  be  absent  some  months,  during 
which  time  that  silly  mock  engagement  with  Boadicea 
would  be  broken  off,  and  on  his  return  Lady  Jeffreys 
could  resume  with  him  that  pleasing  flirtation,  that 
agreeable  toying  with  the  flames  of  passion,  which  was 
her  idea  of  supreme  enjoyment  in  life. 

But  to-day  being  the  last  which  Lieutenant  Jack 
would  spend  in  her  company  for  many  months  to 
come,  it  would  have  to  be  one  fraught  with  many  de- 
lights, with  graciousness  tempered  with  a  measure  of 
coquetry,  just  sufficient  to  leave  in  its  trail  a  happy 
memory  of  the  past,  and  an  exciting  longing  for  the 
future. 

Therefore  she  had  put  on  her  most  becoming  gown, 
and  retired  to  her  room  during  the  hottest  part  of  the 
day  so  that  she  should  appear  fresh  as  spring  blossom 
to  dazzle  Jack's  eyes  at  tea  time. 

She  thought  to  find  him  alone  in  the  orchard  lan- 

172 


A  MAN  IN  LOVE  173 

guishing  for  her  company,  and  listening  with  bored 
attention  to  Boadicea's  few  remarks.  In  her  mind  she 
had  apprised  the  young  couple's  attitude  to  one  an- 
other, entirely  to  her  own  satisfaction.  On  the  part 
of  Boadicea  there  was  just  childish  ignorance  of  the 
world,  a  total  want  of  knowledge  of  the  art  how  to 
captivate  and  hold  a  man.  She  may  originally  have 
been  flattered  by  Lieutenant  Carrington's  notice  of  her, 
but  seeing  him  tired  and  bored,  as  he  undoubtedly 
was  in  her  presence,  she  must  very  quickly  have  given 
up  all  thoughts  of  trying  to  please  him. 

As  for  Lieutenant  Jack,  why,  of  course,  his  attitude 
was  plain  enough  to  the  eyes  of  the  lady  who  desired 
to  keep  him  dangling  round  her  skirts.  He  looked 
upon  Boadicea  with  eyes  of  contemptuous  pity.  How 
could  he  fail  to  do  so,  seeing  that  he  must  for  ever  be 
comparing  her  with  her  beautiful  and  fascinating 
sister. 

Having  thus  disposed  of  the  feelings  of  two  young 
people  Lady  Jeffreys  felt  herself  at  liberty  to  give  free 
rein  to  her  own.  She  liked  Lieutenant  Jack.  He  was 
good  looking,  and  had  distinguished  himself  above  the 
herd  of  idle  young  men  about  town.  There  was  a 
certain  amount  of  social  glory  to  be  derived  from  hav- 
ing a  temporary  society  lion  dallying  round  her  skirts ; 
moreover,  it  continued  to  vex  Sir  Baldwin  Jeffreys, 
who  —  heartily  ashamed  of  his  violent  outburst  of 
jealousy  —  had  not  put  in  an  appearance  at  Old  Manor 
Farm  since  then. 

Olive  —  thinking  to  find  Lieutenant  Jack  listless  and 
bored  in  her  absence  —  was  very  disagreeably  sur- 
prised when  she  saw  him  standing  at  the  bottom  of  a 


174  MEADOWSWEET 

ladder  watching  with  unmistakable  attention  Boadi- 
cea's  descent  from  a  cherry  tree.  So  absorbed  did  he 
seem  in  the  contemplation  of  a  pair  of  ankles  encased 
in  white  cotton  stockings  that  he  did  not  even  perceive 
the  swish  of  silk  skirts  on  the  grass,  nor  the  affected 
little  cough  which  should  have  told  him  that  a  very 
beautiful  lady  was  close  by, 

Olive  frowned.  She  was  not  pleased  with  the  pic- 
ture, which  in  itself  would  have  delighted  the  eye  of 
any  artist  or  dreamer  or  poet  who  happened  to  revel 
in  brilliant  sunshine  and  dense  blue  shadows,  in  wild 
brown  hair  on  which  the  afternoon  light  threw  gleams 
of  ruddy  gold,  in  youth  and  grace,  and  that  subtle 
aroma  of  delight  which  emanates  from  young  people 
who  are  in  love,  and  do  not  yet  know  the  full  meaning 
of  the  passion. 

Still  frowning,  Olive  approached  the  grand  fatherly 
cherry-tree,  at  the  foot  of  which  Barnaby  Crabtree  was 
just  awakening  from  his  midday  slumber. 

"  Child,"  said  Lady  Jeffreys  through  pursed  lips, 
"  what  are  you  doing  here  ?  " 

She  was  still  talking  from  some  little  distance,  and 
no  doubt  that  was  the  reason  why  her  high-pitched 
soprano  voice  sounded  shrill  and  out  of  tune  on  this 
exquisitely  harmonious  afternoon* 

"  I  thought,"  she  added,  "  that  aunt  had  deputed  you 
to  set  the  china  straight." 

Boadicea  was  a  little  confused,  as  well  she  might  be, 
seeing  that  Olive  was  angered  with  her,  and  Lieutenant 
Carrington's  searching  grey  eyes  seemed  brimming 
over  with  amusement. 

I  .  .  ."  she  stammered,   "that  is  .  .  .  we  .  .  . 


a 


A  MAN  IN  LOVE  175 

Lieutenant  Carrington  and  I  .  .  .  did  busy  ourselves 
in  .  .  . 

"  Looking  for  begad  caterpillars  on  a  tree-top,  I  sup- 
pose !  "  muttered  Cousin  Barnaby  irritably. 

Olive  was  surveying  Aunt  Caroline's  best  china  tea- 
set  with  frowning  eyes. 

"  You  had  better  busy  yourself  to  better  purpose 
now,"  she  said.  "  Lieutenant  Carrington,  please  1  — 
a  branch  of  thorn  has  caught  the  hem  of  my  gown. 
Might  I  trouble  you  to  disentangle  it  ?  " 

"  At  your  service,  Lady  Jeffreys." 

And  Boadicea  had  the  mortification  to  see  with  what 
alacrity  he  ran  to  do  Olive's  bidding,  leaving  her  to 
struggle  with  the  china,  which  he  himself  had  so  clum- 
sily ranged  round  the  foot  of  the  cherry-tree.  He 
knelt  at  Olive's  feet  and  busied  himself  laboriously  — 
and  very  lengthily,  she  thought  —  with  the  bit  of 
bramble  that  was  tearing  a  filmy  lace  flounce,  whilst 
Olive  was  looking  down  on  him,  smiling  and  quite 
good-humoured  now. 

Obviously  the  disentangling  of  a  bit  of  thorn  from  a 
silk  gown  could  not  last  an  indefinite  length  of  time. 
Boadicea  was  watching  the  process  through  the  cor- 
ners of  her  eyes,  which  caused  her  once  or  twice  to 
stumble  against  Cousin  Barnaby's  outstretched  legs, 
whereupon  he  said  something  very  rude  under  his 
breath. 

"  Child,"  said  Olive  after  a  while  in  that  high-pitched 
tone  which  she  usually  affected.  "  I  can  see  aunt  com- 
ing from  the  house  with  a  pile  of  cakes  and  Susan  be- 
hind her,  more  clumsy  than  a  cow.  Had  you  not  best 
goto  her?  " 


176  MEADOWSWEET 

"  Allow  me  to  go,"  said  Lieutenant  Carrington,  ris- 
ing to  his  knees  with  truly  marvellous  alacrity,  consid- 
ering the  pleasing  occupation  in  which  he  had  just  been 
engaged. 

"  Ah,  Lieutenant  Carrington !  "  pleaded  Olive,  with 
captivating  grace,  "  please  do  not  vote  me  a  nuisance, 
but  the  string  of  my  shoe  has  come  undone,  and  I  can- 
not fasten  it  myself  without  grave  discomfort." 

Jack  looked  undecided.  On  the  one  hand  he  did  not 
want  Boadicea  to  go  away  from  him  at  this  moment, 
or  at  any  other  when  he  could  persuade  her  to  remain 
close  by,  and  on  the  other  he  could  not  with  politeness 
refuse  to  render  a  lady  the  service  of  tying  up  her  shoe. 
Boadicea,  trying  to  conceal  her  vexation  under  a  mask 
of  indifference,  decided  the  point  for  him. 

"  I  pray  you,  Lieutenant  Carrington,"  she  said  in  a 
high-pitched,  affected  tone  of  voice  like  that  of  her  sis- 
ter, "attend  to  Lady  Jeffreys'  shoe-string.  I  have 
business  elsewhere." 

And  before  Jack  could  make  a  movement  to  stop  her, 
she  had  darted  away  like  some  elfish  creature  of  woods 
and  orchards,  her  muslin  gown  flying  out  behind  her, 
her  brown  hair  gleaming  in  the  sun. 

"  Jack !  "  whispered  Lady  Jeffreys  tenderly. 

He  knelt  down  once  more  and  busied  himself  with 
her  shoe,  whilst  Cousin  Barnaby  murmured  rude  things 
in  the  rear. 

When  he  had  finished  tying  the  shoe,  he  rose  to  his 
feet,  and  she  took  his  arm  with  easy  familiarity  and 
led  him  away  among  the  cherry-trees.  He  went  quite 
submissively,  for  indeed  his  thoughts  were  not  here  at 
all :  they  were  following  the  graceful  fairy -like  figure 


A  MAN  IN  LOVE  177 

that  had  run  away  from  him  just  now,  and  his  mind 
was  busy  recalHng  every  line  that  had  enchanted  him 
while  she  ran,  dwelling  on  the  memory  of  her  as  she 
sat  there  in  the  cherry-tree  with  the  sunshine  playing 
on  her  hair,  the  soft  blush  mantling  on  her  downy 
cheek.  .  ,  . 

And  Olive  went  rambling  on,  talking  of  Lady 
Medenham's  rout,  and  of  the  Queen's  latest  whim  in 
bonnets.  He  listened  without  hearing,  and  gave  an- 
swers without  heeding,  thankful  that  Lady  Jeffreys 
was  too  absorbed  in  her  own  charming  personality  to 
notice  his  absent  gaze  and  his  crooked  remarks ;  appar- 
ently she  had  succeeded  in.  persuading  herself  that 
he  was  so  filled  with  sorrow  at  his  coming  departure 
from  her  side  that  he  had  no  heart  for  society  small 
talk. 

He  did  not  mind  walking  round  the  orchard  like  this, 
and  indeed,  the  beautiful  Lady  Jeffreys  hardly  existed 
for  him.  He  was  living  through  that  halcyon  time 
that  only  comes  once  in  life  —  and  not  in  every  life  — ■ 
the  halcyon  time  of  newly  awakened  love,  when  every 
blade  of  grass  whispers  of  one  foot,  and  every  bird 
throat  sings  the  praise  of  one  divinity. 

Whilst  Jack  Carrington  wandered  round  the  orchard' 
with  Olive  he  saw  Boadicea  at  every  turn  and  behind 
every  tree,  her  voice  spoke  to  him  through  that  of  the 
thrush,  her  brown  hair  glittered  for  him  in  every  ray 
of  sunshine. 

And  now  Aunt  Caroline  really  came  bustling  out 
with  a  tray  in  her  hands  on  which  were  laid  plates  filled 
with  cakes,  bread  and  butter,  and  all  manner  of  things 
to  eat.     She  was  scolding  Susan  as  hard  as  she  could 


178  MEADOWSWEET 

go,  her  tongue  and  her  feet  going  along  at  an  equally 
quick  rate. 

"  Lord  bless  my  soul,  did  anyone  ever  see  the  like? 
Truly  servants  were  specially  invented  by  Providence 
to  plague  us.  There  is  nothing  this  girl  does  that  I 
could  not  do  a  thousand  times  better  than  she,  or  a 
thousand  times  quicker.  Susan !  Susan !  where  in  the 
name  of  common-sense  are  you?  " 

And  Susan,  who  was  following  very  closely  on  her 
mistress's  heels  with  another  tray  on  which  were  set 
the  tea-pot,  milk  and  cream  jugs,  and  other  appur- 
tenances of  the  homely  brew,  said  pertly: 

"  Here,  ma'am." 

"  Bustle  up,  then !  bustle  up ! "  admonished  Aunt 
Caroline.     "  The  tea  should  have  been  here  long  ago." 

"  It  is  half  an  hour  late,"  said  Cousin  Barnaby,  who 
made  no  attempt  to  give  a  hand  in  the  laying-out  of  the 
picnic  tea. 

Aunt  Caroline  and  Susan  were  very  busy  for  the 
next  five  minutes  in  setting  out  the  best  china  tea-serv- 
ice, and  making  arrangements  for  the  comfort  of 
everyone  else. 

"  There !  that  will  do,"  said  Aunt  Caroline,  when  all 
had  been  arranged  to  her  satisfaction.  "  Run  and  find 
your  master  now,  Susan." 

"Yes,   ma'am.     Master  was  in  the  orchard  just 


now." 


"  Well !  and  did  you  tell  him  that  tea  was  ready  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"  Did  he  say  he  was  coming?  " 

"  He  said  something  like  mixed  biscuits,  ma'am !  " 

"  Mixed  biscuits  ?  " 


A  MAN  IN  LOVE  179 

"  Some  of  his  confounded  Latin,  I  suppose! "  con- 
cluded Cousin  Barnaby,  with  a  grunt. 

But  even  at  this  moment  Uncle  Jasper  was  coming 
along.  He  had  his  coat  on  with  the  brass  buttons,  and 
the  wig  with  the  full  curls  over  the  temples,  a  specimen 
case  made  of  shining  brass  was  slung  round  his  shoul- 
ders by  a  strap,  and  he  had  his  butterfly-net  in  his 
hand,  showing  that  he  had  not  spent  an  idle  after- 
noon. 

"  Qui  utile  'dulci  miscuit,"  he  said,  when  he  saw  the 
tea-things  so  temptingly  laid  out  in  the  shade  of  the 
cherry-tree  on  the  grass. 

"  Mixed  biscuits ! "  commented  Cousin  Barnaby 
'drily. 

"  *  Who  mixes  the  agreeable  with  the  useful,'  is  the 
correct  translation  from  the  Latin  adage,  Barnaby," 
said  Uncle  Jasper  blandly. 

Though  he  saw  the  tea  laid  out  before  him,  and  Aunt 
Caroline  raising  the  heavy  tea-pot  preparatory  to  pour- 
ing out,  he  said,  with  his  usual  vagueness : 

"  Tea  did  you  say,  my  dear?  " 

"Why,  of  course,  tea,  Jasper!  "  said  Aunt  Caroline 
impatiently;  "didn't  you  hear  me  say  at  dinner  time 
that  we  would  have  tea  in  the  orchard  to-day  ?  " 

"  A  most  inconvenient  spot ! "  remarked  Cousin 
barnaby. 

He  was  stuffing  the  corner  of  a  napkin  into  the  open- 
ing of  his  collar.  Already  he  had  taken  possession  of 
the  most  shady  and  most  comfortable  seat  at  the  im- 
provised tea-table,  with  his  back  against  the  trunk  of 
the  tree,  and  his  favourite  cakes  and  scones  disposed 
conveniently  to  his  hand. 


i8o  MEADOWSWEET 

"  I  hate  meals  out-of-doors/'  he  said,  "  like  a  begad 
earwig ! " 

"  But  in  beautiful  weather  like  this,  Cousin  Bar- 
naby,"  retorted  Aunt  Caroline,  "  it  would  be  a  sin  to 
remain  indoors ! " 

Lady  Jeffreys  and  Lieutenant  Carrington  were  now 
seen  walking  among  the  trees.  They  were  hailed  by 
Aunt  Caroline,  and  soon  joined  the  party  at  tea.  Olive 
looked  prettier  than  ever,  for  her  cheeks  were  aglow 
with  pleasure.  She  had  thoroughly  enjoyed  her  walk, 
and  comfortably  attributed  Jack's  abstraction  to  sor- 
row at  parting  from  her. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

A   WOMAN    IN   A   RAGE 

Aunt  Caroline  was  already  busy  pouring  out  tea. 
She  was  excessively  hot,  because  she  thought  it  right 
and  proper  to  put  on  her  silk  dress  every  time  Lieu- 
tenant Carrington  paid  an  afternoon  visit  at  Old 
Manor  Farm. 

*'  Olive,  dear,  where  will  you  sit  ?  "  she  asked,  seeing 
that  the  two  newcomers  —  both  for  reasons  of  their 
own  —  were  standing  by,  irresolutely,  before  joining 
in  the  circle  on  the  grass. 

"  On  a  clean  pocket-handkerchief,  Aunt,  if  there  is 
one,"  replied  Olive,  with  a  supercilious  lift  of  her 
arched  eyebrows. 

"Come,  Susan,  bustle  up,  then,  bustle  up!"  said 
Aunt  Caroline  fussily,  "  a  clean  handkerchief  for  her 
ladyship.  .  .  .  Lord !  bless  my  soul  I  how  stupid  these 
girls  are  nowadays." 

Which  obviously  was  a  very  unfair  accusation 
against  Susan  just  at  this  moment,  for  how  in  the 
world  was  a  girl  to  find  a  clean  pocket-handkerchief  in 
the  middle  of  an  orchard?  Mr.  Crabtree  had  one  in 
his  pocket,  and  the  corner  of  it  protruded  under  the 
flap ;  Susan  did  try  to  obey  her  mistress  and  incident- 
ally to  show  her  cleverness  by  seizing  the  corner  of 
that  handkerchief,  whereupon,  of  course,  Mr.  Crab- 
tree  was  very  angry. 


i82  MEADOWSWEET 


te 


« 


Don't  do  that !  "  he  cried.     "  Am  I  a  begad  laun- 
dry?" 

This  made  everyone  laugh,  and  it  also  gave  Lieu- 
tenant Carrington  the  very  opportunity  which  he  had 
longed  for. 

"  Will  you  allow  me,  Lady  Jeffreys  ? "  he  said,  and 
turned  toward  the  house. 

"What  to  do?"  she  said. 
Find  a  handkerchief  for  you." 
But  ..."  she  protested. 

But  it  was  too  late  to  protest.  Lieutenant  Jack 
was  already  half  way  to  the  house. 

"  So  attentive,  Lieutenant  Carrington,"  said  Aunt 
Caroline  placidly.  "  His  manners  are  quite  irre- 
proachable." 

"A  foolish  thought  to  run  after  a  handkerchief!" 
said  Olive  stiffly;  *'  I  had  one  by  me,  after  all." 

She  felt  suddenly  out  of  temper;  quite  unaccountably 
so,  surely,  for  Jack  had  hurried  off  in  her  service.  But 
she  would  have  been  more  pleased  had  Boadicea  been 
in  the  orchard  at  the  present  moment,  instead  of  in  the 
house,  where  she  certainly  would  be  meeting  Lieutenant 
Carrington. 

Aunt  Caroline  was  handing  Barnaby  Crabtree  hig 
second  cup  of  tea.     He  gave  a  grunt  of  satisfaction. 

"  Let  us  be  thankful  for  small  mercies !  " 

"  How  so?  "  questioned  Olive. 

"  To  have  a  meal  in  comparative  peace." 

"  Surely,  Cousin  Barnaby,"  she  said,  "  you  find  the 
country  peaceful,  this  beautiful  midsummer  time?  " 

"  I  might,  ma'am,  if  it  were  not  for  that  begad  love- 
making  ! 


>r 


A  WOMAN  IN  A  RAGE  183 

"  Love-making?" 

"  Aye !  No  sooner  have  Caroline's  confounded 
guinea-fowls  ceased  their  abominable  screeching,  be- 
ing, I  suppose,  busy  with  their  food,  and  I  have  settled 
down  at  last  to  a  few  moments'  quiet  rest  in  the  heat 
of  the  afternoon,  than  I  am  disturbed  .  .  .  disgrace- 
fully, unwarrantly  disturbed !  " 

"  But  how.  Cousin  Barnaby !  "  exclaimed  Aunt  Caro- 
line. "  I  thought  that  in  the  afternoon  both  the 
house  and  the  orchard  were  particularly  quiet  and 
peaceful." 

"  Ah !  "  he  retorted  crossly,  "  you  thought,  then, 
that  it  was  quiet  and  peaceful  for  me  yesterday  after- 
noon to  be  aroused  from  my  gentle  meditations  by 
sickly  sounds  of  '  Meadowsweet !  Meadowsweet ! '  " 
—  and  he  mimicked  the  sentimental  voice  of  a  young 
man  who  might  be  in  love.  "  *  My  little  Meadow- 
sweet, come  out ! '     Ugh !  disgusting,  I  call  it." 

"  You  were  dreaming.  Cousin  Barnaby,"  said  Olive, 
whose  irritation  and  ill-temper  were  perceptibly  grow- 
ing. 

"Dreaming?  eh?  And  was  I  dreaming  just  now 
when  those  two  you-ng  jackanapes  were  perching 
on  that  tree-top  talking  of  ankles  like  two  begad 
idiots?" 

"  I  don't  know  whom  you  mean,  Cousin  Barnaby," 
she  rejoined.  "  Who  is  Meadowsweet,  and  who  are 
the  two  jackanapes  to  whom  you  refer?  " 

"  I  am  talking  of  your  sister,  ma'am,  and  of  that 
begad  sailor." 

"  Then  you  are  talking  nonsense,  Cousin  Barnaby. 
I  am  sure  that  Lieutenant  Carrington  is  most  moderate 


i84  MEADOWSWEET 

in  his  courtship.  Anyone  can  see  that  he  is  not  in  the 
least  in  love." 

"  Anyone  can  see  that  he  is  a  fool." 

"  Omnis  amans,  amens !  "  murmured  Uncle  Jasper. 

"  Jasper  used  to  be  the  only  insane  person  in  this 
house,"  said  Mr.  Crabtree  blandly;  "but  now,  ma'am, 
your  sister  and  her  sailor  are  two  begad  lunatics." 

"  I  feel  sure  you  exaggerate,  Cousin  Barnaby !  "  re- 
torted Olive,  who  by  now  had  great  difficulty  in  con- 
cealing her  irritation. 

"  I  feel  sure,"  he  rejoined  placidly,  "  that  I  shall  get 
a  bad  bilious  attack  if  this  begad  cooing  and  billing  is 
allowed  to  go  on." 

But  this  was  more  than  any  woman  could  stand. 
Olive  jumped  up  from  the  tea-table,  for  she  felt  that  if 
she  stood  still  any  longer  listening  to  all  this  vapid 
talk  she  would  surely  have  an  attack  of  hysteria. 

"  Did  a  wasp  sting  you?  "  queried  Barnaby  Crabtree 
blandly. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied  viciously. 

"  You  have  spilt  your  tea,  ma'am,  and  upset  my 
peaceful  enjoyment  of  this  repast." 

Olive  now  was  walking  up  and  down  on  the  grass  in 
a  state  of  great  agitation.  Aunt  Caroline,  at  the  bare 
suggestion  of  a  wasp  sting,  had  come  forward  with  all 
manner  of  remedies  —  milk,  salt,  soil  made  into  a 
messy  pap  with  water  and  sugar  —  and  was  mortally 
offended  because  Olive  would  have  none  of  these 
things  applied  to  the  imaginary  sting, 

"  No,  no,  Aunt,  let  me  be !  "  said  Olive  irritably, 
"  for  gracious'  sake,  don't  fuss !  You'll  get  on  my 
nerves  if  you  fidget  round  me  like  this." 


A  WOMAN  IN  A  RAGE  185 

"  I  don't  believe  that  it  was  a  wasp,  after  all,"  said 
Aunt  Caroline;  "perhaps  it  was  only  a  gnat." 

"  Yes!  that's  it.  Aunt,"  rejoined  Olive,  with  a  harsh 
little  laugh;  "  it  was  only  a  poisonous  little  gnat!  " 

"  Won't  you  come  and  finish  your  tea,  then  ?  " 

Was  ever  woman  so  plagued  before?  Olive  would 
gladly  have  indulged  in  a  screaming  fit ;  she  felt  that  it 
would  have  eased  the  tension  of  her  nerves.  As  it 
was,  the  bland  platitudes  of  Aunt  Caroline  and  the 
venomous  shafts  of  Cousin  Barnaby  were  equally  driv- 
ing her  to  desperation. 

"  As  for  me,"  said  Mr.  Crabtree,  who  was  con- 
tentedly eating  plum  cake,  "  I  came  here  for  peace. 
This  afternoon  I  settled  down  in  this  orchard  for  peace. 
Love-making  is  disturbing  at  all  times,  especially  on  a 
warm  afternoon.  And  now  I  come  to  think  of  it, 
Caroline,  I'll  go  indoors  directly  after  tea,  ere  I  get 
more  of  it." 

"  More  of  it!  "  exclaimed  Olive- 
Mr.  Crabtree  once  more  mimicked  the  voice  of  some 
young  man  supposed  to  be  sick  with  love. 

"  '  Ten  minutes  with  you  —  alone  —  to-day ! ' 
Bah ! ! !     It  makes  me  sick !  " 

"  I'll  not  allow  it !  "  cried  out  Olive  impulsively,  for- 
getting all  prudence  in  this  sudden  access  of  jealousy. 
"I'll  not  allow  it!" 

"  And  why  not,  Olive  ?  "  queried  Aunt  Caroline. 
"  Indeed,  I  think  Cousin  Barnaby's  remarks  most  un- 
seemly. As  for  me,  I  like  to  see  two  young  people  in 
love.  Lord  bless  my  soul!  it  reminds  me  of  the  days 
when  your  uncle  came  courting  me !  " 

"  Did  he  come  along  with  a  butterfly-net  ?  "  asked 


i86  MEADOWSWEET 

Mr.  Crabtree,  glancing  at  Uncle  Jasper,  who,  indeed, 
had  finished  his  tea,  and  was  hovering  about  behind  a 
cherry-tree,  butterfly-net  in  hand,  intent  on  the  gyra- 
tions of  a  magnificent  butterfly  which  seemed  to  have 
strayed  from  the  flower-garden, 

"Jasper  was  better-looking  than  you  ever  were, 
Barnaby,"  said  Aunt  Caroline  hotly. 

"  Then  you  think.  Aunt,"  interposed  Olive,  who  now 
tried  to  speak  more  gaily  and  unconcernedly,  "  you 
think  that  Lieutenant  Carrington  has  fallen  in  love 
with  Boadicea  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  of  it,"  replied  Aunt  Caroline.  "  At  first 
I  thought  that  he  seemed  rather  cold  towards  her." 

"  No  wonder.  Since  she  inveigled  him  into  this  en- 
gagement," assented  Olive  spitefully. 

"Her  conduct  that  evening  was  certainly  unmaid- 
enly,"  conceded  Aunt  Caroline.  "I  think  that  she 
must  have  fallen  in  love  with  him  at  first  sight,  and 
that  she  —  being  very  young  —  did  not  know  how  to 
conceal  her  feelings  towards  him.  He,  on  the  other 
hand,  was  at  first  only  flattered." 

"  Flattered !  "  ejaculated  Olive  under  her  breath,  "  at 
the  attentions  of  a  pert  country  minx.  I  should  have 
thought  that  they  would  have  disgusted  him." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,  my  dear.  Men  are  like  wasps. 
Honey  will  always  attract  them  ...  the  honey  of  soft 
speeches  and  pretty  glances.  He  may  have  been  cold 
at  first,  but  now  things  are  altogether  reversed." 

"How  so?" 

"  'Tis  Boadicea  who  holds  aloof,  whilst  Lieutenant 
Carrington  is  as  keen  as  a  fly  after  jam." 

"  Ug:h !  1 "  grunted  Mr.  Crabtree. 


A  WOMAN  IN  A  RAGE  187 

"  Then,  'tis  for  you,  Aunt,  to  put  an  end  to  this 
ridiculous  engagement !  "  exclaimed  Olive  excitedly. 

"  I  wish  she  could !  "  said  Cousin  Barnaby. 

"  Ridiculous  engagement !  " —  and  Aunt  Caroline's 
hands  went  up  in  token  of  supreme  astonishment. 
**  Why,  it  will  be  the  joy  of  my  life  to  see  the  child 
married  to  Mamie  Carrington's  boy!  She  was  my 
dearest  friend.  He  is  rich,  well-favoured,  a  perfect 
gentleman.  .  .  ." 

"  I  call  the  whole  thing  unseemly,  silly,  senseless !  " 
cried  Olive  hotly.  "  She  is  far  too  young,  too  stupid 
.  .  .  she  is  nothing  better  than  an  uneducated  school- 
girl, quite  unfit  to  go  into  society  ...  or  to  the  altar, 
for  a  matter  of  that  ...  I  call  it  wicked  to  allow  such 
an  engagement  to  go  on." 

"  But,  my  dear,  at  the  time  .  .  ^ 

"  At  the  time  we  all  had  to  save  the  child's  reputa- 
tion, which  she  had  so  gravely  compromised  by  her  im- 
modest conduct.  Lieutenant  Carrington  behaved  just 
as  a  gentleman  should,  and  averted  the  scandal  which 
would  for  ever  have  disgraced  us  all.  But  he  had  no 
intention  to  entangle  himself  in  the  meshes  of  an  en- 
gagement with  a  girl  for  whom  he  could  have  nothing 
but  contempt,  and  for  his  sake  —  since  he  behaved  so 
nobly  at  the  time  —  that  senseless  engagement  must  be 
put  an  end  to  at  once  I  " 

"  But,  my  dear,"  protested  Aunt  Caroline  meekly, 
for  Olive  was  waxing  very  vehement,  and  Aunt  Caro- 
line was  greatly  afraid  of  her  niece's  tantrums,  "  be- 
lieve my  old  experience  I  I  don't  believe  that  either  of 
those  two  young  people  would  wish  to  break  the  en- 
gagement off  now  1  '* 


i88  MEADOWSWEET 

"  Then  you  should  interfere,  Aunt !  "  cried  Olive, 
completely  losing  control  over  her  nerves,  and  shriek- 
ing at  the  top  of  her  voice  like  some  virago  in  a  rage. 
**  Someone  ought  to  interfere  —  the  whole  thing  is 
monstrous,  infamous,  silly  and  wicked!  I'll  not  allow 
it  ...  I  won't  ...  I  wont !  " 

"  Olive !  "  exclaimed  Aunt  Caroline  in  astonishment, 
"  what  in  the  world  is  the  matter?  .  .  .  I've  never  seen 
you  like  this.  .  .  ." 

"  Most  disturbing!  "  muttered  Cousin  Barnaby. 

Aunt  Caroline's  exclamation  of  astonishment  had 
recalled  Olive  to  herself.  She  had  a  sufficiency  of 
common-sense  and  also  of  conceit  not  to  wish  to  expose 
her  feelings  before  her  aunt  and  this  disagreeable,  mis- 
chief-making old  man.  Her  jealousy  had  rendered 
her  not  only  spiteful,  but  careless  of  appearances;  and 
appearances  were  the  beginning  and  end  of  Olive's  rule 
of  conduct.  So,  seeing  her  aunt's  round  eyes  fixed  in 
amazement  upon  her,  she  pulled  herself  together  reso- 
lutely, and  said,  with  a  quick,  anxious  little  laugh : 

"  Oh !  ...  I  ...  I  beg  your  pardon,  Aunt.  .  .  . 
I  must  have  been  dreaming  .  .  ." 

"  Funny  dreams !  "  muttered  Cousin  Barnaby. 

"  It  is  so  hot  —  and  the  flies  are  so  upsetting,"  con- 
tinued Lady  Jeffreys.     "  I  was  disturbed.  .  .  ." 

"  So  was  I,  gravely  disturbed." 

"  I  think  it  must  have  been  the  heat  .  .  .  and 
Cousin  Barnaby 's  silly  remarks..  .  .  Please,  Aunt,  ex- 
cuse me!  ...  I  think  I'll  go  and  lie  down  for  a 
while.  Boadicea  shall  bathe  my  head  with  vinegar 
and  water.  .  .  .  Cousin  Barnaby  was  too  funny  .  .  . 
mimicking  a  love-sick  youth  .  .  .  Cousin  Barnaby,  I 


A  WOMAN  IN  A  RAGE  189 

suspect  you  of  being  in  love  yourself,  the  pretty  way 
you  said  '  Meadowsweet !  my  little  Meadowsweet !  * 
...  I  thought  I  should  have  died  with  laughter.  .  .  . 
What  time  is  supper  to-night,  Aunt?  —  as  usual,  I 
suppose.  ...  I  don't  think  that  I'll  come  down  be- 
fore then  .  .  .  my  headache  will  be  better  by  that 
time,  if  I  keep  quiet.  So  long,  Cousin  Barnaby.  .  .  . 
I  hope  you'll  enjoy  your  fourth  cup  of  tea  .  .  .  un- 
disturbed." 

She  was  laughing  hysterically,  whilst  short,  sharp 
sobs  shook  her  throat  and  brought  tears  of  anger  to 
her  eyes. 

"  Shall  I  come  with  you,  Olive  ?  "  asked  Aunt  Caro- 
line, feeling  very  concerned  at  this  strange  outburst  of 
rage,  which  she  was  too  simple  to  understand. 

"  No,  no.  Aunt,  thank  you !  I  shall  find  Boadicea 
indoors,  shall  I  not?  In  the  arms  of  Lieutenant  Car- 
rington  probably?  Really,  Aunt,  I  think  you  might 
"watch  a  little  more  carefully  over  the  child.  With 
her  disregard  of  conventionalities,  she  might  yet 
bring  lasting  disgrace  upon  us  all." 

With  this  parting  shaft  aimed  at  poor,  unsophisti- 
cated Aunt  Caroline,  Lady  Jeffreys  gathered  up  her 
flounced  skirts  and,  interposing  her  sunshade  between 
herself  and  Cousin  Barnaby 's  rude  stare,  she  walked 
rapidly  away  in  the  direction  of  the  house. 

"  At  last  we  may  indulge  in  a  little  peace,"  said 
Mr.  Crabtree  calmly,  as  soon  as  Olive's  pretty  figure 
had  vanished  in  the  distance.  "  Caroline,  both  your 
nieces  are  a  disturbing  element  in  this  household.  You 
will  have  to  rid  yourself  of  them." 


190  MEADOWSWEET 

"  I  wonder  now  what  was  the  matter  with  Olive," 
mused  Aunt  Caroline  thoughtfully. 

"Her  liver  probably.  Most  disturbances  can  be 
ascribed  to  the  liver.  Caroline,"  he  added,  handing 
over  his  cup  for  refilling,  "  this  tea  has  become  cold. 
I'll  partake  of  another  more^ palatable  cup  —  and  this 
time,  I  hope,  in  peace." 

And  he  did  finish  his  tea  in  peace,  even  though  a 
few  moments  later  Lieutenant  Carrington  came  down 
from  the  house,  and  after  a  few  polite  words  of  excuse 
sat  down  and  had  his  tea  in  silence.  Aunt  Caroline 
asked  after  Boadicea.  But  Lieutenant  Carrington 
said  that  he  had  sought  for  her  in  vain  for  a  long 
while,  and  only  caught  sight  of  her  a  moment  ago, 
when  she  was  running  upstairs  in  response  to  a  per- 
emptory call  from  Lady  Jeffreys. 

Whereupon  Aunt  Caroline  was  greatly  upset  that  the 
child  should  be  missing  her  tea. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

AN    UNSEEMLY    INCIDENT 

I  DON^T  know  whether  Aunt  CaroHne  actually  sug- 
gested that  Boadicea  should  go  out  into  the  orchard 
and  see  if  that  silly  girl  Susan  had  left  one  of  the  best 
silver  spoons  behind,  or  whether  Aunt  Caroline  did 
no  such  thing,  and  the  suggestion  came  from  Boadicea. 

This  I  do  know,  that  about  an  hour  later,  when  the 
tea-things  had  been  washed  up  and  Aunt  Caroline 
had  as  usual  gone  to  the  museum  for  the  express  pur- 
pose of  worrying  Uncle  Jasper  in  the  intervals  of 
darning  his  socks,  Boadicea  did  go  into  the  orchard 
to  see  if  Susan  had  left  one  of  the  best  silver  spoons 
on  the  grass. 

Now  Susan  had  done  no  such  thing,  and  the  orchard 
at  this  hour  was  quite  peaceful  and  deserted.  The 
birds  were  gathering  up  the  crumbs  which  had  fallen 
from  the  merrymakers'  table,  and  except  for  the  fact 
that  the  grass  around  the  foot  of  the  grand  fatherly 
cherry-tree  was  trodden  down  and  limp  from  the  im- 
press of  the  recent  tea-party,  there  was  no  sign  that  the 
peace  of  this  midsummer's  afternoon  had  ever  been 
disturbed. 

The  tea-party  had,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  come  to  an 
abrupt  and  somewhat  unseemly  ending,  which  circum- 
stance it  is  my  duty  to  chronicle,  seeing  that  it  will 
more  fully  explain  the  reason  why  the  orchard  gener- 

191 


192  MEADOWSWEET 

ally  and  the  neighbourhood  of  the  grandfatherly 
cherry-tree  most  particularly  were  quite  so  deserted  at 
this  early  hour  of  the  day. 

Aunt  Caroline  and  Lieutenant  Carrington  were  con- 
versing politely  on  indifferent  topics,  such  as  the 
weather,  and  the  prospects  of  the  apple  crop,  whilst 
Mr.  Crabtree  partook  of  a  copious  meal,  which  in- 
cluded all  the  muffins  and  most  of  the  cake  which  had 
been  intended  for  the  rest  of  the  party.  Strangely 
enough.  Aunt  Caroline,  by  some  intuition  which  she 
herself  could  not  have  explained,  refrained  from  men- 
tioning either  Olive's  or  Boadicea's  name;  this  reti- 
cence was  all  the  more  remarkable  as  she  must  have 
felt  worried  at  the  thought  that  both  were  missing  their 
tea. 

To  miss  a  meal  was  in  Aunt  Caroline's  opinion  the 
most  blameworthy  act  on  the  part  of  any  well-regu- 
lated constitution,  and  it  was  therefore  greatly  to  her 
credit  that  tact  and  discretion  got  the  better  of  her 
usual  fussiness.  I  think  that  Lieutenant  Carrington 
would  have  liked  to  talk  about  Boadicea  just  then; 
there  are  strange  and  subtle  wishes  in  the  heart  when 
love  holds  its  full  sway  in  it,  curious  reticences,  and 
unaccountable  timidities,  which  are  very  delicious  to 
experience,  for  Love  creates  them,  and  the  sensations 
that  Love  creates  have  all  a  foretaste  of  heaven.  So 
Lieutenant  Carrington  was  quite  content  to  sit  quietly 
beneath  the  cherry-tree  and  to  listen  to  Aunt  Caroline's 
mild  efforts  at  conversation,  for  his  memory  held  the 
promise  which  Boadicea  had  given  him,  to  meet  him 
in  the  orchard  —  alone  —  presently  and  to  listen  to 


AN  UNSEEMLY  INCIDENT  193 

what  he  had  to  say,  and  his  heart  was  feeding  on  the 
dehghts  of  anticipation. 

During  this  time,  Susan,  sitting  at  a  respectful  dis- 
tance from  her  betters,  was  consuming  everything  that 
Aunt  Caroline  had  set  aside  for  her,  the  outside  pieces 
of  the  cake  and  the  middle  pieces  of  the  muffin,  which 
Cousin  Barnaby  did  not  care  about ;  and  Uncle  Jasper 
was  stalking  a  beautiful  large  butterfly  with  his  net. 

As  luck  would  have  it,  the  butterfly  settled  for  one 
moment  on  the  top  of  Mr.  Crabtree's  bald  head,  and 
unfortunately  Uncle  Jasper,  being  very  short-sighted 
as  well  as  very  enthusiastic  in  the  pursuit  of  science, 
brought  his  net  down  somewhat  suddenly  over  the 
butterfly  and  Mr.  Crabtree's  head. 

The  immediate  result  was  only  what  could  be  ex- 
pected. The  cup  full  of  tea,  which  Mr.  Crabtree  was 
about  to  convey  to  his  lips,  fell  from  his  hand,  the 
tea  was  spilt  all  over  Aunt  Caroline's  best  table-cloth 
and  drowned  the  remainder  of  an  excellent  plum-cake 
which,  after  such  an  immersion,  would  be  wholly  unfit 
to  eat,  and  of  course  Cousin  Barnaby  swore  profusely. 

"  Thunder  and  flame !  .  .  .  what  the  .  .  .  why 
the  .,  .  ." 

"Jasper,  how  could  you?"  exclaimed  Aunt  Caro- 
line, horrified. 

Then  she  loudly  called  to  Susan,  who,  I  am  sorry  to 
say,  was  rolling  over  in  the  grass,  at  a  respectful  dis- 
tance, of  course,  holding  her  sides  with  laughter. 

"  Susan !  Susan !  Lord  bless  my  soul,  where's  that 
girl  now!     Susan!  " 

Yes,  ma'am!"  Susan  contrived  to  say,  after  she 


i( 


194  MEADOWSWEET 

had  stuffed  her  mouth  full  of  muffin  to  choke  back  the 
immoderate  laughter. 

And  while  Aunt  Caroline  fussed  round  Cousin  Bar- 
naby  with  a  serviette,  and  Susan  tried  to  rescue  the 
bread  and  butter  from  the  flood  of  tea.  Uncle  Jasper 
said  reproachfully : 

"  You  have  scared  him  away,  Barnaby !  A  beautiful 
Red  Admiral!" 

"  On  my  head?  "  roared  Mr.  Crabtree,  whose  indig- 
nation was  at  its  height.  "On  my  head?  .  .  .  Jasper, 
I  ask  you,  am  I  a  begad  geranium?  " 

"  Aliusque  et  idem,"  murmured  Uncle  Jasper  plac- 
idly; "  another  yet  the  same." 

And  not  waiting  to  hear  further  abuse  from  irate 
Cousin  Barnaby,  he  calmly  continued  to  stalk  the  Red 
Admiral.  Presently  he  caught  it,  and  carried  it  off  in 
triumph  to  the  museum,  whilst  Mr.  Crabtree  muttered 
indignantly : 

"  I  shall  have  to  change  my  pantaloons !  " 

"  Aye,  aye,  come  with  me.  Cousin  Barnaby !  "  said 
Aunt  Caroline  in  a  kindly  spirit  of  conciliation. 
"  Take  no  heed  of  Jasper ;  he  meant  no  harm." 

"  He  ought  to  be  in  a  lunatic  asylum !  " 

He  kindly  allowed  Aunt  Caroline  to  lead  him  away 
from  the  scene  of  this  outrageous  catastrophe,  whilst 
Susan,  busy  clearing  away  the  mess,  muttered  under 
her  breath : 

"  If  we  all  was  .  .  ." 

"Stop  muttering!"  said  Mr.  Crabtree,  who  was 
still  very  cross.  "  I  hate  muttering  .  .  .  What  did 
you  say,  girl  ?  " 

But   Susan  now  was  dumb.     She  bent  her  head 


AN  UNSEEMLY  INCIDENT  195 

down  to  the  tea-things,  pretending  to  be  very  absorbed 
in  her  work.  She  waited  until  Mr.  Crabtree  and  Aunt 
CaroHne  were  well  out  of  earshot,  then  she  said  as 
loudly  as  she  dared,  nodding  her  head  in  the  direction 
of  the  dyspeptic  old  man : 

"  What  I  say  is,  some  of  us  ought  to  be  in  a  wild 
beast  show ! " 

After  which  exclamation  she  felt  that  her  feelings 
had  been  relieved.  She  concluded  her  own  tea  in 
peace  and  then  set  to  to  clear  away  all  the  tea-things, 
and  honestly  I  do  not  think  that  she  left  any  silver 
spoon  on  the  grass. 

And  yet,  an  hour  later,  Boadicea  declared  to  Aunt 
Caroline  that  one  of  the  spoons  was  missing  and  that 
she  was  quite  sure  she  would  find  it  in  the  long  grass 
under  the  cherry-tree  where  the  tea  had  been  laid  out, 
which  I  must  tell  you  was  not  at  all  unlikely,  seeing 
that  that  spoon  was  at  this  moment  quietly  reposing 
in  Boadicea's  pocket,  and  that  as  she  went  straight 
away  and  put  it  in  the  long  grass  under  the  cherry- 
tree,  she  would  surely  find  it  there  again  after  a  ten 
minutes'  search. 

All  of  which  of  course  is  most  reprehensible ;  nor 
did  the  manoeuvre  deceive  Aunt  Caroline,  who  had 
counted  the  spoons  over  before  they  were  washed  up, 
and  knew  that  they  were  all  together  then,  and  who 
had,  moreover,  taken  special  note  of  the  fact  that  Lieu- 
tenant Carrington  was  nowhere  about  the  house  and 
was  most  probably  in  the  orchard  at  this  moment, 
waiting  for  that  spoon  to  be  discovered  in  the  long 
grass  under  the  cherry-tree. 


CHAPTER  XX 

A  FAIRY  TALE 

Six  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  at  the  beginning  of 
July  is  one  of  the  most  exquisite  moments  in  an  Eng- 
lish orchard,  when  the  shadows  are  beginning  to  length- 
en, and  the  rays  of  the  sun  come  slanting  through  the 
network  of  boughs,  and  on  the  west  side  every  leaf 
on  every  damson  or  cherry  tree  is  a  tiny  mirror  that 
reflects  the  glory  of  the  sky. 

In  the  shadow  of  the  house  there  was  a  bed  of  white 
tobacco  in  full  bloom,  and  just  at  this  hour  the  sweet 
pungent  scent  filled  the  orchard  from  end  to  end,  and 
lazy  bumble  bees  hovered  above  the  waxen  flowers  and 
gave  forth  that  dull,  quaint  sound  of  buzzing  and  dron- 
ing which  is  so  soothing  and  so  suggestive  of  peace. 

Boadicea  walked  towards  the  orchard  from  the 
house.  She  was  hatless,  and  her  brown  hair,  ever 
inclined  to  unruliness,  escaped  all  round  her  head 
from  the  trammels  of  a  big  black  satin  bow  which  at- 
tempted to  fetter  it  at  the  nape  of  her  neck.  Close 
by  the  bed  of  tobaccos  she  paused  a  moment,  and 
drew  one  long  breath,  drinking  in  with  both  nostrils 
the  delicious,  almost  intoxicating  fragrance  of  the 
flowers. 

She  could  see  no  one  in  the  orchard  for  the  moment, 
and  she  was  glad  of  this  respite,  for  her  heart  was 
beating  furiously;  she  really  could  not  have  told  you 

196 


A  FAIRY  TALE  197 

why.  She  turned  her  steps  toward  the  grand  fatherly 
cherry-tree,  and  the  next  moment  two  strong  arms 
encircled  her  from  behind,  and  she  had  the  greatest 
possible  difficulty  in  extricating  herself  from  these  in- 
sistent bonds. 

*'  How  dare  you  ?  "  she  exclaimed  as  soon  as  she 
was  free  again,  and  stood  facing  the  bold  assailant, 
who,  with  glowing  eyes,  was  looking  into  her  own. 

**  I  wonder  how  I  dare,"  he  replied,  unabashed. 

*'  I  was  looking  for  aunt,"  she  said  stiffly.  But  she 
made  no  attempt  to  move  away. 

"  Oh,  no !  "  he  said  quite  seriously.  "  Surely  for  old 
Crabtree  ?  " 

And  that  light  of  merriment  twinkled  impertinently 
in  his  grey  eyes. 

"  I'll  go  and  find  aunt  elsewhere,"  she  rejoined  lof- 
tily, and  walked  further  into  the  orchard  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  cherry-tree. 

"  I  swear  to  you  that  you  shall  not !  "  he  said. 

And  he  walked  quicker  than  she  did,  and  was  the 
first  to  reach  the  tree.  There  he  stopped,  and  threw 
himself  down  on  the  grass  in  the  long  cool  shadow, 
and  whilst  she  said  haughtily:  "  Indeed?  "  he  looked 
on  her  approaching  figure  with  eyes  that  literally 
drank  in  every  graceful  line,  from  the  exquisitely 
poised  little  head,  with  the  brown  hair  gleaming  like 
gold  in  the  sunshine,  down  to  the  small  feet  that  trod 
the  ground  so  firmly. 

"  You  are  going  to  stay  here  for  ten  minutes  — 
alone  with  me  —  as  you  promised,"  he  said. 

And  his  eyes  invited  her  to  sit  beside  him  on  the  cool 
grass,  and,  believe  me,  that  when  presently  she  did 


198  MEADOWSWEET 

so,  putting  on  a  quaint  air  of  resignation  and  of  dis- 
dain which  the  soft  blush  in  her  cheeks  disclaimed,  he 
had  to  clasp  his  hands  tightly  together,  pressing  his 
nails  into  his  flesh,  in  an  endeavour  to  repress  that 
overmastering  desire  to  seize  her  then  and  there  in 
his  arms  and  to  press  her  closely  to  him,  whilst  his 
lips  sought  the  delicious  fragrance  of  her  hair,  her 
eyes,  her  lips. 

"  Ah,  yes !  I  promised !  "  she  said,  with  whimsical 
affectation.     "  Well,  then,  you  must  be  brief.  .  .  ." 

Then  as  he  said  nothing,  but  continued  to  look  on 
her  with  an  ardent  gaze  that  sent  the  hot  blood  rush- 
ing up  to  her  cheek,  she  said  impatiently : 

"  Well !  why  don't  you  begin?  I  can  only  give  you 
ten  minutes,  you  know." 

He  saw  the  blush  in  her  cheek,  and  wondered  how 
much  of  it  came  from  girlish  coquetry  and  how  much 
from  ignorance  of  what  his  glance  had  desired  to 
convey.  Now  that  he  had  her  so  near  to  him,  so 
thoroughly  at  the  mercy  of  the  passionate  appeal 
which  he  wished  to  make  to  her,  a  strange  diffidence 
seized  him.  She  seemed  so  very  young,  so  wholly 
unsophisticated,  so  far  removed  in  her  purity  and  her 
innocence  from  the  scorching  breath  of  a  man's  pas- 
sion. He  was  afraid  that  he  would  scare  her,  that  she 
would  not  understand  all  that  lay  in  his  heart,  and  that 
he  wished  to  convey  to  her  in  a  few  glowing  words 
which  already  seared  his  lips. 

Therefore  he  called  forth  his  strongest  will-power 
now,  and  forced  back  the  words  of  love  which  were 
rushing  up,  helter-skelter,  from  his  heart,  in  mad  dis- 
order, and  glowing,  wild,  delicious  nonsense.     He  was 


A  FAIRY  TALE  i99 

longing  just  to  lie  down  close  beside  her,  with  his  lips 
pressed  against  her  feet,  and  to  pour  out  all  the  flood 
of  love,  of  worship  and  ecstasy  which  filled  his  heart 
to  bursting.  But  will-power  was  strong  in  him,  for 
on  its  strength,  perhaps,  depended  all  future  happiness, 
both  for  him  and  for  this  child.  It  called  back  his 
unruly  senses  to  calm  and  to  self-control,  and  after  a 
moment's  pause  during  which  he  closed  his  eyes,  for 
he  could  not  bear  to  look  on  her  and  not  tell  her  at 
once  of  his  love,  he  said,  quite  quietly: 

"May  I  tell  you  a  tale?" 

"A  tale?"  she  asked,  in  astonishment.  "What 
kind  of  a  tale?  " 

"  A  fairy  tale,"  he  replied. 

"  Why  should  you  want  to  tell  me  a  tale  now  ?  " 

"  You  will  understand  the  reason  after  my  tale  has 
been  told.     May  I  begin?  " 

"If  you  like,"  she  said,  with  an  indifferent  shrug  of 
the  shoulders. 

"  Once  upon  a  time,"  he  began,  "  all  the  flowers  of 
the  field  rebelled  against  the  Fairy  Queen,  They  had 
got  tired  of  the  country,  and  wished  to  go  up  to  town. 
*  We'll  go  to  London,'  said  they,  *  and  see  the  world, 
and  be  seen  and  admired  by  all  the  townsfolk.  We're 
tired  of  being  looked  on  merely  by  stupid  country 
folk ! '  This,  mind  you,  is  what  the  flowers  of  the 
field  said  to  the  Fairy  Queen." 

"  Did  you  invent  this  tale.  Lieutenant  Carrington?  " 
she  asked. 

"  Yes,  partly.     Do  you  care  for  it  ?  " 

"  Not  very  much  so  far.  It  seems  to  be  rather 
pointless." 


200  MEADOWSWEET 

"  How  can  you  tell  ?     I  have  only  just  begun." 

"Will  it  take  long?" 

"  Ten  minutes.     May  I  go  on?  " 

"If  you  like,"  she  reiterated,  with  still  the  same 
indifference. 

"  The  Fairy  Queen,"  he  then  went  on,  "  could  not 
very  well  stop  them  if  they  wished  to  go,  so  all  the 
flowers  of  the  field  went  to  town  —  briar-rose  and 
toad-flax,  purple  vetch  and  ox-eyed  daisies.  They 
were  clipped  and  trimmed  and  put  into  vases  and 
openly  displayed  in  shops  and  markets.  They  suffered 
tortures  with  wires  and  string,  but  they  didn't  mind. 
They  had  had  their  way  and  had  become  town  flow- 


ers." 


"  I  still  don't  see  the  point  of  the  story.  Lieutenant 
Carrington,"  she  said. 

"  You  must  have  a  little  patience.  I  am  coming  to 
the  point.  In  the  general  exodus  from  the  fields,  one 
little  flower  was  forgotten.  She  was  dainty  and  shy 
and  hid  under  the  hedgerows,  and  so  her  prouder 
sisters  failed  to  notice  her." 

"  What  was  her  name?  " 

"  I'll  tell  it  you  presently.  The  Fairy  Queen  saw 
her  as  she  passed,  she  was  touched  by  the  flower's 
freshness  and  her  grace,  and  then  and  there  endowed 
her  with  all  the  attributes  which  the  other  flowers  had 
disclaimed.  She  gave  her  scent  so  sweet  that  the  bees 
and  butterflies  fight  for  a  kiss  from  her,  she  gave  her 
a  white  gown  with  dainty  frills,  and  finally  she  gave 
her  a  name  so  beautiful  and  so  pure  that  ever  after  it 
remained  the  emblem  of  tender  womanhood." 

"  And  what  was  that  name,   Lieutenant  Carring- 


A  FAIRY  TALE  201 

ton?"  she  asked,  shyly,  timidly,  almost  in  a  whisper, 
for  her  voice  had  lost  its  quaint  note  of  affectation,  and 
her  head  was  drooping  as  if  under  the  weight  of  the 
gold  in  her  hair. 

"  The  name,"  he  said  —  also  in  a  whisper  — "  which 
always  springs  to  my  lips  when  I  look  at  you  .  .  . 
Meadowsweet !  " 

"  My  name  is  Boadicea  Aldmarshe." 

"  Not  to  me !  .  .  .  Ever  since  that  day  when  Fate 
thought  fit  to  shuffle  her  cards  and  made  us  partners 
in  this  game  of  life,  ever  since  then  you  have  meant 
to  me  all  that  is  fresh  and  pure  in  life  —  just  a  little 
sprig  of  meadowsweet." 

"  But  the  game  is  ended,"  she  said.  "  Fate  is  shuf- 
fling her  cards  again." 

He  could  not  see  her  eyes,  for  they  were  downcast, 
but  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  dewy  moisture  lingered  on 
their  lashes,  and  certainly  there  had  been  a  tremor  in 
her  voice,  as  of  tears  that  would  rise  to  her  throat. 

"  Is  it  ended?  "  he  asked. 

"  Why,  of  course,"  she  said ;  "  we  were  partners  not 
of  our  own  free  will." 

"Yes,  then.     But  now?" 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean !  " 

"  I  could  explain  if  .  .  ." 

"If  what?" 

"If  you  would  look  at  me." 

She  raised  her  eyes  to  his,  and  he  saw  that  they  were 
full  of  tears,  and  so  bright,  so  bright  that  an  infinity 
of  promise  lay  within  their  luminous  depths. 

He  could  have  fallen  down  and  worshipped  her  then. 


202  MEADOWSWEET 

Never  had  he  seen  such  innocence,  such  purity  in  any 
woman's  eyes.  From  her  whole  personality  there 
emanated  such  perfect  trust,  and  such  simplicity  of 
soul,  that  even  the  ardent  breath  of  passion  must  cool 
ere  it  touched  her.  Later  on  she  would  become  a 
woman,  no  doubt;  later  on  she  would  understand  a 
man's  love  better,  know  all  its  ardour,  and  forgive  all 
its  sins;  but  now  she  was  only  a  child,  and  it  almost 
seemed  sacrilege  to  disturb  her  serenity. 

"  May  I  go  on  with  the  fairy  tale?  "  he  asked. 

"If  you  like,"  she  said  simply. 

"  One  midsummer's  day  —  while  all  the  gayer  jflow- 
ers  were  parading  the  streets  —  the  meadowsweet  fell 
asleep  under  the  hedgerow.  The  air  was  full  of  the 
song  of  birds,  and  the  flap  of  butterflies'  wings.  And 
the  West  Wind  came  playing  round  that  hedgerow. 
He  peeped  beneath  and  saw  the  Meadowsweet,  so  pure, 
so  sweet,  so  exquisitely  fair.  He  blew  upon  the  blos- 
som .  .  .  and  whispered  words  to  waken  the  soul  of 
the  flower  .  .  .  words  of  tenderness  .  .  .  and 
of  love.  .  .  ." 

The  long  lashes  were  once  more  veiling  the  glory  of 
the  eyes.  She  could  not  have  gone  on  looking  at  him, 
whilst  he  spoke  like  that. 

How  exquisite  was  his  voice !  how  tender  the  glance 
of  his  eyes.  A  delicious  sense  of  happiness,  of  confi- 
dence and  of  faith  crept  into  her  heart.  Something 
thrilled  her,  too,  something  that  she  did  not  under- 
stand; perhaps  it  was  the  scent  of  those  white  flowers 
in  the  shadow,  for  the  very  air  seemed  quivering  with 
their  fragrance. 

"  I  don't  suppose,"  she  murmured  shyly,  "  that  the 


A  FAIRY  TALE  203 

Meadowsweet  understood  .  .  .  tenderness,  perhaps 
.  .  .  but  love?  .  .  ." 

"  My  Meadowsweet  —  the  one  of  whom  I  speak  — 
asked  the  birds  and  the  bees,  and  they  told  her  what 
the  West  Wind  meant." 

"  But  you  say  that  she  was  asleep." 

"  Ah !  but  the  West  Wind  woke  her." 

"How?" 

He  put  his  arms  round  her  suddenly,  without 
further  thought,  and  only  because  he  could  no  longer 
contain  himself  and  his  very  body  ached  with  the  in- 
tensity of  his  desire  for  that  first  kiss.  He  took  her 
in  his  arms,  and  his  lips  sought  hers. 

"  Like  this !  "  he  said. 

She  yielded  her  lips  to  him,  just  like  a  child  that 
would  give  all  it  has,  for  sheer  love,  for  sheer  happi- 
ness, for  sheer  desire  to  give.  She  yielded  her  lips 
and  gave  him  kiss  for  kiss. 

"  Meadowsweet,  my  little  Meadowsweet!  "  he  mur- 
mured through  broken  sobs  that  came  to  his  throat 
with  the  very  intensity  of  his  happiness.  "  It  is  too 
good,  too  good  to  be  true!  .  .  .  You  so  beautiful, 
so  dear,  so  sweet,  do  you  ...  do  you  really  love 
me?" 

She  smiled  at  him  through  her  tears,  and  whispered 
timidly : 

"  The  West  Wind  woke  the  Meadowsweet,  you  see 
.  .  .  she  has  asked  the  birds  and  bees,  and  now  .  .  ." 

"Yes!     And  now?" 

"  I  think  that  she  understands." 

She  hid  her  face,  which  was  covered  with  blushes. 
Then  as  he  was  about  to  pour  into  her  ear  all  the  words 


204  MEADOWSWEET 

of  passionate  adoration  which  he  had  held  in  check 
for  so  long,  she  quickly  put  up  her  small  brown  hand 
and  her  fingers  were  pressed  against  his  lips. 

And  now  she  looked  at  him  again,  half  shyly,  and 
with  a  curious,  questioning  glance. 

"Hush!  sh!  sh!"  she  said.  "Don't  speak  now 
.  .  .  don't  tell  me  anything  more.  ...  It  is  all  so 
new,  so  wonderful!  I  had  never  loved  before,"  she 
added  naively ;  "  I  never  even  knew  what  love  meant. 
It  must  be  so  different  for  you." 

"  Until  I  looked  into  your  dear  eyes,"  he  said  ear- 
nestly, "  until  I  scented  the  meadowsweet  in  the  hedge- 
rows, I  never  knew  what  love  could  mean." 

She  sighed  with  infinite  content;  you  see,  she  had 
no  idea  that  the  world  could  be  quite  so  beautiful  as  it 
was  now;  she  had  no  idea  how  glorious  could  be  the 
sunshine  peeping  through  the  branches  of  cherry-trees, 
how  green  could  be  the  grass,  how  sweet  the  note  of 
the  cuckoo  which  came  from  far  away.  Everything 
in  nature  which  she  had  seen  and  felt  and  heard,  every- 
thing that  she  had  admired  and  loved,  was  infinitely 
more  lovable,  more  admirable  now  that  she  sat  with 
a  man's  arms  round  her,  and  the  savour  of  his  kiss 
still  lingered  on  her  lips. 

How  long  they  sat  together  like  this,  neither  of 
them  did  know;  what  they  said  to  one  another  only 
the  birds  and  bees  could  hear.  I'll  not  plague  you 
with  telling  you  of  that  delicious  nonsense  which  they 
talked,  the  tender,  inane,  sublime  babblings  of  newly 
awakened  love.  Only  those  who  remember  their  own 
first  babblings  would  forbear  to  smile,  and  those  who 
choose  to  remember  are  fewer  and  fewer  every  day. 


A  FAIRY  TALE  205 

In  every  human  heart  there  is  such  a  memory; 
every  human  soul  has  once  been  an  infant  suckling  at 
the  breast  of  Love,  inarticulate,  ecstatic,  sublime  in  its 
inanity.  But  the  strenuous  exigencies  of  modern  life 
have  thrown  a  thick  grey  veil  over  the  memory  of  that 
halcyon  hour,  and  the  veil  has  been  allowed  to  cling 
to  and  to  choke  up  memory  until  it  has  faded  out  of 
ken. 

But  those  who  have  kept  such  memory  green  will 
understand,  without  being  told,  all  that  Jack  Carring- 
ton  and  Boadicea  said  to  one  another  under  the  cherry- 
tree  that  afternoon;  as  for  the  others,  they  would  not 
care. 

The  hours  slipped  by  and  the  shadows  grew  longer. 
From  Minster  tower  far  away  came  the  sound  of 
church  bells  ringing  for  evening  prayer.  Boadicea 
was  the  first  to  wake  from  an  enchanting  dream. 

"  And  now  I  must  go,  my  dear,  my  love !  "  she  said, 
still  shyly.  "  Aunt  Caroline  will  be  wondering  .  .  . 
and,  oh !  it  must  be  near  supper-time." 

"  Not  yet !  "  he  pleaded. 

"  Oh,  but  I  must  go  I  I  ...  I  want  to  be  alone  — 
just  for  a  little  while  .  .  .  before  I  meet  the  others 
...  I  want  to  think  ...  to  live  my  happiness." 

"  Live  it  awhile  longer  in  my  arms." 

"  No  ...  no  ...  I  must  go  ...  I  really 
must ! " 

And  she  disengaged  herself  from  those  clinging 
arms,  and,  rising  to  her  feet,  she  stood  before  him, 
demure  and  tall,  with  just  that  soft,  rosy  blush  in  her 
cheeks  to  betray  her  womanhood,  to  show  that  a  man's 
kiss  had  blown  the  spirit  of  childhood  away. 


2o6  MEADOWSWEET 

She  meant  to  turn  away  from  him  without  a  word 
of  parting,  for  it  seemed  to  her  that  everything  had 
been  said  that  could  possibly  be  said,  and  that  the  time 
had  come  now  for  a  long  and  delicious  silence. 

But  just  as  she  was  about  to  turn  away,  some 
thought  seemed  to  flash  through  her  mind,  and  it  was 
she  now  who,  with  a  sudden  impulse,  had  put  her  arms 
on  his  shoulders. 

"  My  dear,"  she  said  earnestly,  "  if  anything  should 
part  us  now  .  .  ." 

"  What  could  part  us,  little  Meadowsweet  ? "  he 
asked  exultantly,  triumphant  in  his  love. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  replied;  "  but  if  it  should  .  .  ." 
She  paused  a  moment,  then  added  slowly : 

"  It  would  break  my  heart!  " 

"  Nothing  on  earth  can  part  us  now.  I  have  held 
you  in  my  arms,  my  Meadowsweet,  and  I  have  felt  the 
magic  of  your  kiss  ...  do  you  think  that  I  could 
after  that  allow  anything  to  part  us?  " 

"  No!  no!  of  course  not,"  she  said  simply;  "but  it 
seems  so  strange!  it  seems  as  if  this  happiness  was 
really  too  great  to  last !  " 

Then  she  turned  away  quickly,  and  ran  towards  the 
house,  and  he  stood  still  under  the  cherry-trees,  look- 
ing after  her  retreating  figure  as  a  man  would  on  the 
embodiment  of  earthly  happiness. 

And  the  intoxicating  fragrance  of  many  blossoms 
was  in  the  air.  Overhead  a  thrush  was  singing  to  its 
mate;  the  swallows  were  circling  high  up  above  the 
trees,  and  tiny  fleecy  clouds  raced  across  the  sky. 

Jack  Carrington  fell  on  his  knees  and  thanked  God 
for  it  all. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

A   LIE 

What  a  beautiful  world  it  was! 

The  air  was  balmy  and  soft,  not  too  hot  and  not 
too  cool;  never  had  the  thrushes  sung  so  beautifully; 
their  incessant  "He  did  it!  he  did  it!  he  did  it!" 
sounded  just  the  right  note  in  tune  with  this  glori- 
ous afternoon.  Had  the  sky  ever  been  more  brilliant 
and  more  filmy  ?  had  the  flowers  ever  been  so  fragrant 
before,  or  the  strawberries  looked  more  luscious? 

Of  course  they  had  not.  Nothing  had  ever  been 
so  beautiful,  so  fragrant,  or  so  luscious;  in  fact,  one 
came  to  wonder  how  the  world  had  got  on  at  all  be- 
fore .  .  .  before  this  .  .  .  this  wonderful  thing  hap- 
pened. 

The  most  wonderful  thing  that  ever  was  had  sud- 
denly come  to  pass,  and  therefore  the  swallows  twit- 
tered so  merrily  and  circled  round  and  round  high  up 
above  the  trees,  in  a  manner  indicative  of  their  great 
joy,  and  therefore  the  thrushes  said :  **  He  did  it,  he 
did  it,  he  did  it!"  over  and  over  again  because,  of 
course,  they  knew  that  the  one  and  only  He  in  all  the 
world  had  done  it.  The  one  and  only  He  had  opened 
the  book  of  life  and  told  Boadicea  to  read  in  it  the 
great  opening  chapter  —  the  chapter  of  Love. 

Would  you  laugh  in  a  very  superior  way  if  yoit 
heard  that  Boadicea  ran  straight  up  to  her  room  and 

207 


2o8  MEADOWSWEET 

threw  herself  on  her  narrow  bed  face  downwards,  and 
that  she  buried  her  hot  Httle  face  in  her  hands,  and 
cried,  and  cried  as  if  her  heart  would  break? 

It  was  breaking,  you  know,  with  the  intensity  of  her 
happiness.  That  happiness  seemed  really  greater  than 
her  young  heart  could  hold. 

She  cried  for  a  while,  and  then  she  smiled  through 
her  tears,  and  kissed  the  palms  of  her  hands,  because 
they  had  touched  his  hair  and  his  cheeks.  Then  she 
laughed  at  herself  for  being  such  a  goose,  and  blushed 
at  the  thought  of  what  he  would  say  and  do  if  he  saw 
her  now. 

She  jumped  up  from  the  bed  and  washed  her  face 
and  eyes  with  cold  water;  and  all  the  while  she  was 
singing  merrier  than  any  bird :  "  He  did  it !  he  did  it ! 
he  did  it!  "  He  had  opened  up  the  store-house  of  her 
heart,  and  had  put  his  own  image  there  into  a  shrine. 
There  it  would  remain  for  ever;  it  would  take  very 
cruel  hands  to  tear  it  right  out,  hands  that  would  lac- 
erate the  heart  before  ever  they  succeeded  in  their 
cruel  purpose. 

And  he  had  done  more  than  that ;  he  had  made  the 
world  beautiful  for  her,  he  had  decked  the  lily  and 
painted  the  sky,  and  taught  her  a  great  and  wonderful 
lesson. 

She  knew  now  how  dellciously  sweet  a  kiss  could  be ! 

The  old  grandfather  clock  in  the  hall  below  struck 
six  most  solemnly.  Though  the  world  was  so  beauti- 
ful, time  did  not  stand  still.  Boadicea  gave  a  little 
sigh  of  disappointment.  She  had  so  wanted  to  spend 
a  few  happy  hours  contemplating  her  dream.  But 
habit  and  a  sense  of  housewifely  duties  still  held  pow- 


A  LIE  209 

erful  sway,  even  over  her  excitement.  Hastily  she 
smoothed  down  the  last  rebellious  brown  curls,  then 
she  donned  her  housekeeping  apron  and  was  ready  to 
go  downstairs. 

Half  an  hour  before  supper,  and  the  cloth  was  not 
yet  laid  unless  Susan  had  been  more  than  usually  ac- 
tive. 

As  she  opened  the  door  of  her  room,  she  saw  Olive 
coming  up  the  stairs.  She  was  apparently  going  to 
her  own  room,  but  was  moving  with  a  languid  step, 
as  if  she  were  tired  or  else  very  troubled.  She  paused 
on  the  landing,  and  looked  with  obvious  surprise  on 
Boadicea,  whose  glowing  face,  bright  eyes,  and  whole 
personality  quivering  w^ith  joy  and  excitement  be- 
trayed a  secret  that  was  not  difficult  to  guess. 

Olive's  eyes  were  sharp,  and  her  intuition  in  such 
matters  unerring.  The  child  w^as  simply  brimming 
over  with  happiness,  and  Lieutenant  Carrington  had 
not  yet  come  in  from  the  orchard.  It  required  no 
great  penetration  to  fit  these  two  facts  into  one  very 
obvious  whole. 

"  Why,  child,  where  have  you  been?  "  exclaimed  the 
older  sister,  feigning  complete  astonishment.  "  Aunt 
Caroline  has  been  looking  for  you  everywhere." 

"  I  have  been  in  the  orchard,"  said  Boadicea  simply. 

She  had  no  occasion  or  desire  to  conceal  the  one 
great  fact,  though  in  her  heart  of  hearts  she  would 
have  loved  to  guard  her  secret  just  a  little  while  longer, 
to  feast  on  it,  like  a  little  glutton  that  would  devour 
a  world  of  happiness. 

"  In  the  orchard  ?  "  queried  Olive,  with  just  that 
delicate  lifting  of  arched  eyebrows  which  indicated 


210  MEADOWSWEET 

displeasure  as  well  as  surprise.  "  Were  you  alone?  " 
"  No.  Lieutenant  Carrington  was  with  me." 
"  Oh !  "  said  the  other  indifferently.  "  By  the  way, 
child,  just  run  down  a  moment  to  Aunt  Caroline  and 
see  if  she  wants  anything,  then  come  and  talk  to  me 
in  your  own  room,  will  you?  There  is  something  I 
want  to  say  to  you." 

Olive  was  smiling,  and  she  spoke  quite  kindly. 
"  Run  along,  child.  Don't  be  long,"  she  added,  as 
Boadicea,  submissive  and  willing  as  usual,  had  already 
turned  to  obey.  Her  white  skirt  soon  disappeared 
round  the  angle  of  the  stairs.  Olive  watched  her  sis- 
ter's retreating  figure,  until  the  light  patter  of  her  feet 
ceased  to  echo  from  below,  then  she  turned  and  went 
into  Boadicea's  room. 

She  sat  down  at  the  dressing-table,  in  front  of  the 
old-fashioned  mirror.  Leaning  forward  she  studied 
for  awhile  with  grave  attention  the  dainty  image  which 
the  glass  held  before  her;  the  tiny  head  crowned  with 
curls  of  a  pale  golden  hue,  the  colour  of  ripe  corn, 
shimmering  in  the  sunlight;  the  blue  eyes  and  arched 
eyebrows,  the  softly-rounded  cheek  on  which  nature 
carefully  aided  by  art  had  spread  a  delicate  rosy  tint. 

The  image  was  winning  and  charming  in  the  ex- 
treme. No  one  who  looked  could  deny  this ;  no  won- 
der that  on  Olive's  face,  as  she  gazed,  there  came  an 
expression  of  deep  puzzlement.  Surely  a  man  must 
be  blind  to  look  with  favour  on  any  other  face  but  that 
which  the  mirror  so  kindly  reflected.  And  being  blind, 
he  must,  of  course,  be  cured,  and  you  may  be  certain 
that  he  will  presently  be  thanking  God  on  his  knees 
for  having  been  cured  from  his  malady. 


A  LIE  211 

The  resolution  of  perfonning  this  surgical  operation 
was  quickly  come  to.  Olive  now  only  chided  herself 
for  having  been  so  considerate,  so  tender-hearted  all 
this  while.  Lieutenant  Jack  had  no  doubt  been  miser- 
able at  her  seeming  indifference,  and  —  almost  in  des- 
peration— 'Was  turning  to  Boadicea  for  solace  and 
consolation. 

Well!  all  that  could  be  put  right  with  very  little 
trouble.  Olive  marvelled  that  she  had  never  thought 
of  it  before.  Fortunately  it  was  not  too  late;  Lieu- 
tenant Jack's  affections  were  not  really  engaged,  and,  of 
course,  a  child  like  Boadicea  would  soon  forget  her 
own  silly  sentimentality. 

There  came  the  sound  of  light  feet  upon  the  stairs. 
Olive  went  to  the  door  and  opened  it,  and  the  next 
moment  the  same  excited,  quivering,  glowing  Boadicea 
had  followed  her  sister  back  into  the  room. 

"  Aunt  did  not  really  want  me,"  she  said.  "  I  told 
her  that  you  wished  me  to  come  to  you,  so,  of  course, 
she  told  me  at  once  to  run  along,  for  she  and  Susan 
had  nearly  finished  laying  the  cloth  for  supper." 

She  talked  rather  breathlessly  and  quickly,  like  one 
who  has  been  running  very  fast.  Olive  put  out  an  in- 
viting hand  to  her,  and  in  her  childlike,  impulsive  way, 
Boadicea  ran  to  the  dearly  loved  sister,  and  in  the 
exuberance  of  her  joy  kissed  her  tenderly. 

She  had  no  doubt  but  that  Olive  wished  to  question 
her,  and  she  was  looking  forward  to  entrusting  her 
precious  secret  to  the  one  being  in  the  world  who  she 
believed  would  understand  her. 

"  Sit  down  near  me,  little  one,"  said  Olive  gently,  as 


212  MEADOWSWEET 

she  sat  down  on  one  chair  and  drew  another  close  to 
hers. 

But  Boadicea  disdained  the  chair.  She  knelt  down 
on  the  floor  beside  Olive  and  had  her  arms  round 
Olive's  waist,  and  her  head  against  Olive's  shoulder. 
She  sighed  with  absolute  content  and  also  with  excite- 
ment. 

"  I  told  you,  dear,  did  I  not,"  began  Lady  Jeffreys, 
after  a  slight  pause,  "  that  there  was  something  which 
I  wished  to  say  to  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  Olive.     What  is  it?" 

"  Well,  little  one,  it  is  a  confession  which  I  feel 
bound  in  honour  to  make  to  you." 

"  A  confession  ?  "  queried  the  girl,  very  puzzled. 

"  Yes,  dear.  One  which  I  ought  to  have  made  to 
you  long  ago.  ...  I  mean  a  month  ago." 

"  Is  it  very  serious,  then  ?  "  asked  Boadicea  play- 
fully. 

She  was  still  so  far  from  guessing  what  would  come. 

"  Very  serious  to  me,"  replied  Olive  earnestly.  "  I 
do  not  think  that  it  will  affect  you  much  .  .  .  only, 
perhaps,"  she  added,  whilst  tears  seemed  to  be  on  the 
point  of  gathering  to  her  eyes,  "  in  your  estimate  of 
me." 

The  arms  round  Olive's  shoulders  tightened  their 
embrace.  The  face  that  was  hidden  against  her  bosom 
was  raised  to  her  with  an  expression  of  enduring  affec- 
tion and  of  boundless  trust. 

"  Nothing  could  affect  my  estimate  of  you,  Olive," 
said  Boadicea  tenderly ;  "  you  know  that  ever  since  I 
was  a  baby  I  have  always  looked  up  to  you  as  the  most 
beautiful,  the  most  clever,  the  most  perfect  being  in  all 


A  LIE  213 

the  world.  And  to  this  day  you  are  my  ideal  —  and 
the  pattern  whom  I  long  to  emulate." 

"  Well,  dear,  that  is  just  what  I  cannot  bear  any 
longer  .  .  .  your  innocent  admiration,  your  loving 
faith  weighs  on  me  like  a  burden.  ...  I  am  not  wor- 
thy of  it,  little  one  .  .  ." 

And  this  time  two  genuine  tears  ran  down  the  deli- 
cately-rouged cheeks,  making  pathetic  little  rivulets 
which  Olive  did  not  even  try  to  obliterate. 

"  Then  what  is  this  serious  confession,"  asked 
Boadicea  quite  gaily,  "  which  you  feel  called  upon  to 
make  to  me  ?  " 

"  It  is  so  hard  to  make,"  said  Olive,  with  a  sigh. 

"  Shall  I  turn  my  back?     It  might  be  easier." 

"  No,  no !  don't  jest,  little  one.  It  hurts  me  to  see 
you  laugh." 

"Olive  darling!"  exclaimed  Boadicea,  and  for  the 
first  time  since  that  wonderful  moment  this  afternoon 
a  curious  pang  of  pain  shot  right  through  her  heart. 

"  You  know,  dear,"  began  Olive,  after  some  hesita- 
tion, "  a  month  ago  .  .  .  when  Sir  Baldwin  came  on 
us  unexpectedly.  .  .  ." 

"Yes?" 

"  And  I  was  alone  with  Lieutenant  Carrington,  you 
remember?  " 

"  Yes,  Olive." 

The  voice  was  a  little  harder  now,  and  the  arms 
that  encircled  Olive's  shoulders  dropped  limply  to  the 
girl's  side.  Boadicea  was  still  kneeling  beside  her  sister, 
but  her  head  was  no  longer  pillowed  on  the  sister's 
breast.  She  was  squatting  back,  sitting  on  her  heels ; 
the  glow  had  died  from  her  cheeks,  and  left  them  wliite 


214  MEADOWSWEET 

and  drawn ;  her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  her  sister's  face, 
and  her  Hps  were  tightly  set  and  hard. 

"  Go  on,  Olive,"  she  said  quietly, 

"  I  ...  I  asked  you,  then,  did  I  not,  little  one  ?  to 
stand  by  me  and  to  save  me  from  my  husband's  jeal- 
ousy ?  " 

"  I  did  it  heartily  and  willingly,  Olive,  and  I  have 
not  repented  since." 

"  I  swore  to  you  then  that  I  had  done  no  wrong  .  .  . 
that  Sir  Baldwin's  jealousy  was  baseless  and  insane. 
...  I  led  you  to  believe,  in  fact,  that  I  had  been 
merely  thoughtless,  and  that  Lieutenant  Carrington 
had  never  made  love  to  me  .  .  .  you  believed  this  at 
the  time,  little  one  .  .  .  did  you  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Olive  ...  I  believed  this  ...  at  the  time." 

"  Well,  child,  I  ...  I  lied  to  you  then  ...  I  lied 
because  I  was  afraid  .  .  .  but  Sir  Baldwin's  jealousy 
was  quite  justified.  .  .  .  Lieutenant  Carrington  and  I 
fully  deserved  his  wrath.  .  .  .  Jack  and  I  had  loved 
one  another  for  some  time  .  .  .  and  that  night.  .  .  ." 

Almost  against  her  will  she  paused.  She  had  meant 
to  put  facts  crudely,  to  plunge  the  poisoned  dagger 
into  the  child's  innocent  heart,  and  then  to  turn  it  in 
the  wound,  so  as  to  be  quite  sure  that  it  had  done  its 
deadly  work;  but  Boadicea's  eyes  had  compelled  her 
suddenly  to  silence,  and  for  the  next  few  moments 
silence  absolute  reigned  in  the  small  narrow  room. 
Through  the  open  window  came  still  the  hum  of  bees 
and  the  song  of  birds;  but,  oh!  how  out  of  tune  wefe 
they.  There  was  a  peep  of  sky  and  of  sunshine 
through  that  same  window,  and  tiny,  fleecy  clouds 
chased  one  another  across  the  canopy  of  blue,  but  they 


A  LIE  215 

were  grey  and  dark,  and  the  blue  of  the  sky  had  faded 
into  dreary  dullness. 

"  I  ought  to  tell  you,  child,"  resumed  Olive  at  last, 
with  an  effort  —  for  the  silence  had  become  oppressive. 

"  Tell  me  nothing  now,"  said  Boadicea  in  an  even, 
toneless  voice ;  "  you  have  said  enough  .  .  .  and  I  un- 
derstand. .  .  .  Now  please  go !  " 

She  seemed  suddenly  to  have  grown  older.  Olive 
noted,  not  without  satisfaction,  how  hard  were  the  lines 
of  the  young  face  now.  The  sun  struck  full  in  through 
the  open  window,  but  Boadicea  appeared  not  to  notice 
it,  she  was  staring  straight  in  front  of  her,  her  face 
was  the  colour  of  grey  ashes,  and  her  lips  were  blood- 
less. Her  arms  hung  limply  by  her  side.  She  had 
forgotten  Olive's  presence,  she  had  forgotten  that  she 
lived,  and  that  the  world  existed,  In  this  awful  cata- 
clysm which  had  destroyed  her  happiness. 

Olive  tried  to  reason  with  her.  She  was  almost 
frightened  at  the  havoc  which  she  had  wrought. 

"  Child,  listen  to  me  .  .  ."  she  urged. 

But  Boadicea,  without  moving  from  her  position, 
murmured  through  her  half-closed  lips: 

"  Go  .  .  .  go  .  .  .  Oh !  can't  you  see  that  you  must 
go  now !  " 

And  Olive,  without  a  word,  slunk  quietly  out  of  the 
room. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

A    BROKEN    HEART 

It  had  all  been  lies!  lies!  lies! 

He  had  lied  to  her :  that  was  the  great,  the  dominat- 
ing fact  which  reared  its  grim  head  above  the  ashes  of 
her  joy. 

He  was  a  liar  and  had  been  Olive's  lover !  The  lips 
which  had  murmured  words  of  love  into  Olive's  ear 
had  come  to  whisper  lies  into  her  own. 

The  shame  of  it!  The  awful,  awful  shame!  The 
desecration!  The  sacrilege!  To  talk  of  love  and 
pollute  it !  To  kiss,  to  embrace,  and  to  be  lying  all  the 
time!  To  sneak  like  a  coward,  afraid  of  Sir  Bald- 
win's wrath ;  and  then  to  sneak  further  like  a  liar  and  a 
cheat,  stealing  love  and  stealing  kisses !  Oh,  the  misery ! 
The  shame  of  it  all! 

It  was  not  so  much  the  sense  of  a  cruel  wrong  done 
to  herself  that  oppressed  Boadicea's  heart  at  this  mo- 
ment, but  the  knowledge  that  he  was  a  liar,  a  sneak, 
and  a  coward!  It  was  the  shattering  of  her  illusions 
that  hurt  her  so  terribly ;  it  was  the  ruthless  hand  that 
tore  at  the  image  which  she  had  enshrined  that  caused 
her  physical  and  mental  agony,  so  great  that  she  could 
have  rolled  .on  the  floor  and  cried  out  in  bitterness  of 
pain. 

For  the  first  few  moments  after  Olive  left  her,  life  in 

216 


A  BROKEN  HEART  217 

her  seemed  almost  suspended.  She  was  so  stunned 
that  her  brain  reeled.  She  saw  nothing  but  blackness 
before  her,  blackness  through  which  came  voices  mock- 
ing her  and  screaming  shrilly :  "  He  is  a  liar  !  He  is 
a  cheat!" 

And  now  the  thrush  kept  on  repeating  in  a  senseless, 
monotonous  fashion :  "  He  did  it !  He  did  it !  He 
did  it!" 

He  broke  her  heart  by  telling  her  lies  without  end ; 
he  cheated  her  into  thinking  him  good,  upright,  hon- 
ourable —  he,  her  sister's  lover,  whom  Sir  Baldwin 
might,  if  he  would,  have  thrashed  like  a  dog  with  im- 
punity. 

The  shame!  The  shame  of  it  all!  The  cruel  cow- 
ardly lies ! 

She  stopped  her  ears,  for  that  silly  thrush  would 
keep  on  saying :  "  He  did  it !  He  did  it !  He  did  it !  " 
And  when  she  could  not  shut  out  that  monotonous 
sound  she  began  to  laugh.     It  really  was  too  ridiculous ! 

She  laughed  and  she  laughed  —  loudly  and  jerkily. 
She  could  not  stop  herself  from  laughing,  because  that 
thrush  was  so  very  ridiculous. 

And  suddenly  while  she  was  still  laughing,  and  her 
chest  and  throat  were  torn  to  pieces  by  painful  sobs, 
the  thrush  ceased  to  talk  nonsense.  It  seemed  to 
pause  and  to  be  listening. 

And  Boadicea,  too,  listened. 

From  the  orchard  which  lay  not  far  from  her  win- 
dows there  came  the  sound  of  a  fresh,  deep  voice  sing- 
ing an  old  English  song. 

The  refrain  was  quaint,  and  had  in  it  a  dreamy  lilt, 
and  the  words  rang  out  clear  and  distinct. 


2i8  MEADOWSWEET 

Queen  of  my  heart,  unquestioned  and  alway, 
Till  death  consume  me,  thou  shalt  be  indeed ! 
Reason  ordains  that  I  should  ne'er  be  freed 
(And  there  withal  my  pleasure  doth  agree) 
From  thy  sweet  service,  while  the  years  succeed, 
And  to  this  end  we  twain  together  be ! 

The  sobs  and  laughter  in  the  girl's  throat  were 
stilled.  She  squatted  on  the  floor,  there  where  she  had 
knelt  when  Olive  first  told  her  the  ugly,  unvarnished 
truth. 

She  neither  wept  nor  laughed  now.  Pain  itself  had 
subsided.  It  seemed  as  if  that  song  sung  by  him  in 
the  orchard  where  he  had  lied  to  her  had  severed  the 
last  cords  which  bound  her  to  illimitable  regret. 

She  was  no  longer  a  child.  The  last  half-hour  had 
made  her  into  a  woman  —  a  miserable,  disillusioned, 
suffering  woman :  a  woman  conscious  of  abiding  deceit 
and  of  abiding  shame.  But  the  paroxysm  of  grief 
had  gone  by,  leaving  her  physically  a  wreck  and  men- 
tally numb.  It  was  a  long  time  before  she  could  bring 
her  mind  back  to  the  realities  of  life  and  to  its  many 
puerilities. 

Supper  would  be  served  almost  directly.  It  was 
close  on  seven,  and  vaguely  through  her  inert  brain 
there  had  passed  the  consciousness  of  various  familiar 
noises  in  and  about  the  house  —  the  rattling  of  pots 
and  pans  in  the  kitchen,  Aunt  Caroline  going  up  to  her 
room  to  tidy  herself  for  supper.  Cousin  Barnaby 
clamouring  for  something  or  other  that  he  wanted. 

Boadicea  rose  to  her  feet ;  but  she  had  to  steady  her- 
self as  she  did  so,  for  the  walls  of  the  room  were  danc- 
ing a  merry-go-round  in  front  of  her.  Cold  water  to 
her  face  and  wrists  brought  a  little  sense  of  freshness. 


A  BROKEN  HEART  219 

She  was  soon  able  to  master  herself  and  to  steady  her 
limbs.  She  even  said  a  few  words  aloud  to  herself  to 
see  if  her  voice  trembled  or  not. 

Then  from  the  wardrobe  she  took  out  the  high- 
waisted  silk  dress  —  the  one  which  she  had  worn  that 
first  evening  when  Lieutenant  Carrington  stayed  to 
supper,  and  then  rode  away,  returning  late  at  night  for 
the  pre-arranged  rendezvous  with  Olive.  She  had  not 
worn  the  dress  since ;  it  had  seemed  sacred  to  that  one 
day  when  love  was  first  bom  and  peeped  out  shyly  into 
the  world. 

Now  love  was  dead,  a  liar's  hand  had  smothered  it 
with  cruel  embraces,  a  liar's  tongue  had  spoken  its 
funeral  oration.  Boadicea  put  on  the  high-waisted 
dress  again ;  it  had  ceased  to  be  sacred  —  it  was  just  a 
rag  that  would  help  to  mock  the  dying  throes  of  agon- 
ising love. 

Just  as  carefully  as  she  had  done  on  that  memorable 
evening,  she  dressed  herself  in  her  mother's  silken 
gown;  she  arranged  her  hair  in  puffs  and  curls  with 
the  high  comb  of  filigree  fold,  and  donned  the  long  lace 
mittens  and  the  narrow-pointed  shoes  with  the  crossed 
straps  over  the  ankles.  After  that  she  studied  her 
appearance  in  the  mirror.  She  thought  that  she  looked 
rather  pale,  and  that  her  eyes  seemed  unnaturally 
large,  for  they  had  wide  purple  rings  round  the  lids, 
,_but  she  hoped  that  her  pallor  would  be  generally 
ascribed  to  the  heat,  and  in  any  case  she  felt  the  power 
in  her  to  make  light  of  it  and  to  smile. 

She  took  up  the  lace  handkerchief  and  the  tiny  shell 
fan  which  she  had  carried  before,  and  thus  arrayed 
and  equipped,  she  went  downstairs. 


220  MEADOWSWEET 

Lieutenant  Carrington  was  standing  in  the  hall, 
smiling  up  at  her  as  she  descended.  She  looked  a  per- 
fect picture  of  dainty  girlishness,  and  his  twinkling 
eyes  told  very  plainly  into  what  a  fever  of  passionate 
admiration  her  very  appearance  had  thrown  him. 

He  ran  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs  with  both  arms  out- 
stretched, ready  to  catch  her  the  moment  her  small  foot 
had  touched  the  lowest  step. 

She  paused,  however,  midway  down  the  stairs  and, 
with  admirable  self-control,  forced  her  face  and  eyes 
to  express  nothing  but  lively  unconcern,  even  whilst 
within  her  innermost  heart  she  marvelled  how  true 
and  loyal  a  miserable  liar  could  contrive  to  look. 

Half  afraid  that  the  contempt  and  loathing  which 
she  felt  for  him  would  betray  itself  within  the  next 
few  moments,  she  gave  a  merry,  affected  laugh  and 
ran  so  quickly  down  the  stairs  that  his  arms  failed  to 
catch  her  as  she  ran,  and  she  escaped  from  him  to  the 
museum  door. 

He  overtook  her  just  as  she  was  inside  the  room  and 
was  about  to  close  the  door  on  him. 

"  My  Meadowsweet,"  he  said  gaily  as  he  caught  at 
her  hand  and  held  it  imprisoned  between  his  own, 
"  queen  of  my  heart,  whither  away?  " 

"  A  white-throat  has  nested  in  the  mulberry-tree," 
she  retorted  as  gaily  as  he.  "  I  have  just  time  before 
supper  to  steal  the  eggs  for  Uncle  Jasper." 

"  But  not  in  this  gown,"  he  said,  with  a  smile  that 
had  something  of  triumph  in  it,  and  he  tried  to  draw 
her  closer  to  him,  but  she  contrived  to  free  herself 
and  to  interpose  the  big  table  with  all  the  glue-pots  and 


A  BROKEN  HEART  221 

brushes,  the  boxes  of  eyes  and  reels  of  wire,  between 
herself  and  him. 

*'  The  gown  will  not  suffer,"  she  said  lightly,  "  and 
this  is  the  best  hour  of  the  day  for  birds'-nesting." 

But  she  made  no  attempt  to  go,  seeing  which  Jack 
Carrington's  heart  gave  a  wild  thump  of  delight.  He 
was  feasting  his  eyes  on  the  exquisite  apparition  be- 
fore him,  and  was  longing  for  Old  Father  Time  to 
stand  still  for  awhile,  so  that  he  might  look  and  look 
until  he  was  really  satiated  with  the  sight  of  her. 

He  thought  that  she  looked  pale  and  that  her  eyes 
were  circled  as  if  she  had  been  crying,  but  at  this  he 
was  not  astonished.  He,  too,  out  in  the  orchard,  in 
the  shadow  of  the  cherry-tree,  had  felt  as  if  he  could 
have  cried  out  his  heart  for  sheer  happiness;  he,  too, 
felt  as  if  all  his  blood  had  rushed  back  to  his  heart, 
causing  it  almost  to  burst  with  the  greatness  of  his  joy. 

And  her  pale  cheeks  and  purple-circled  eyes  made 
her  seem  a  thousand  times  more  beautiful  to  him  than 
she  had  been  before,  for  these  touches  of  pathos  gave 
to  her  strong  personality  an  enchanting  touch  of  child- 
ish weakness,  which  rendered  her  infinitely  dear. 

Uncle  Jasper  up  on  his  perch  was  immersed  in  a 
ponderous  book;  through  the  open  window  came  the 
soft  sighing  of  the  west  wind  through  the  drooping 
leaves  of  the  cherry-trees. 

"  Will  you  come  out  into  the  orchard  for  ten  min- 
utes, little  Meadowsweet?"  he  pleaded  in  a  tender 
murmur. 

She  raised  her  eyebrows  with  an  expression  of  af- 
fected surprise. 


222  MEADOWSWEET 

"What,"  she  said,  with  a  harsh  Httle  laugh, 
"again?" 

"  The  sun  is  just  beginning  to  set.  It  will  be  glori- 
ous through  the  trees.     Come  and  look  at  it  with  me." 

"  How  can  I,  in  this  gown?  "  she  said  coquettishly. 

"  The  gown  will  not  suffer.  We'll  walk  through 
the  grass,  and  the  dew  has  not  yet  fallen.  Do  come, 
little  Meadowsweet,  there  is  so  much  that  I  have  to 
say  to  you." 

"  Much  to  say  to  me  ?  "  she  retorted.  "  Lord  bless 
my  soul,  Lieutenant  Carrington,  I  thought  you  had 
told  me  everything  that  you  could  possibly  think  of, 
and  that  you  had  exhausted  the  storehouse  of  your 
eloquence." 

"  I  had  not  even  begun,"  he  said  earnestly. 

He  was  looking  at  her  almost  inquiringly  now;  he 
did  not  quite  understand  her.  All  the  merry  twinkle 
had  gone  from  his  eyes;  they  looked  sorrowful  and 
puzzled. 

The  eyes  of  a  liar,  she  thought,  who  begins  to  fear 
that  his  lies  have  found  him  out. 

She  smothered  a  yawn,  and  turned  her  back  on  him. 

"  Then  I  am  afraid,"  she  said  lightly,  "  that  you  will 
have  to  find  some  other  listener  now.  I  am  tired  of 
your  rodomontades !  " 

For  a  moment  he  thought  that  excitement  must  have 
turned  her  brain.  She  looked  absolutely  a  different 
woman;  when  she  turned  once  more  to  him  now,  and 
faced  him  with  that  affected  curl  on  her  lips,  that  un- 
natural expression  of  empty  coquetry  in  her  eyes,  he 
had  to  close  his  own  just  for  a  moment,  for  he  really 
thought  that  he  must  be  dreaming  some  ugly,  horrible 


A  BROKEN  HEART  223 

dream,  and  that  he  must  make  a  supreme  effort  to 
dispel  it  before  it  caused  his  own  brain  to  reel. 

When  he  opened  his  eyes  again  she  was  looking  just 
the  same  —  smiling,  affected,  distinctly  bored. 

"I  —  I  did  not  think,  dear,  that  I  had  tired  you,"  he 
said  gently.  **  You  listened  so  patiently  .  .  .  that  I 
hoped  .  .  ." 

"  What  ?  "  she  exclaimed,  with  a  laugh.  "  What 
did  you  hope  ?  That  I  should  be  willing  to  go  on  lis- 
tening for  another  long  ten  minutes  to  your  stale  gal- 
lanteries?  We  may  be  fools  in  the  country,  Lieu- 
tenant Carrington,  and  uneducated  savages,  but  we  are 
not  quite  such  fools  as  that !  " 

Then  suddenly  he  thought  that  he  held  the  key  to 
this  new  mood  of  hers :  she  was  just  teasing  him,  play- 
ing with  him  like  a  kitten  with  a  mouse.  The  game 
was  cruel  enough ;  the  suffering  which  she  was  inflict- 
ing on  him  was  greater  than  she  could  gauge,  but  he 
loved  her  so  dearly  that  He  could  find  it  in  his  heart  to 
forgive  her  readily,  and  to  endure  patiently  any  tor- 
ment which  she  might  think  fit  to  impose  upon  him. 

"  My  dear  little  Meadowsweet,"  he  said,  speaking 
with  utmost  tenderness,  "  I  don't  suppose  that  you 
realise  for  a  moment  quite  how  cruel  is  the  game  which 
you  are  playing  with  me." 

"  The  game?  "  she  asked.     "  What  game?  " 

"  You  have  a  perfect  right,  of  course,  to  tease  and 
hurt  me  as  much  as  you  like  if  it  gives  you  pleasure; 
but  just  now,  when  my  happiness  is  so  new  and  so 
unexpected,  and  I  have  not  actually  grasped  the  fact 
yet  that  your  dear  lips  have  really  touched  mine,  just 
now,  my  beautiful  Meadowsweet,  the  game  is  doubly 


224  MEADOWSWEET 

cruel.  .  .  .  And  every  word  which  you  speak  in  jest 
cuts  through  my  heart  Hke  a  knife." 

"  Your  heart?  "  And  she  laughed  loudly  and  mer- 
rily. "Your  heart?  Oh,  how  funny!  Lieutenant 
Carrington,  do  tell  me  where  you  keep  your  heart  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  that  it  has  been  in  your  keeping,  dear, 
for  a  long  time  now  .  .  .  and  I  had  hoped  that  it 
would  remain  there  always." 

"  Always  is  such  a  long  word.  .  .  .  What  do  you 
mean  by  '  always,'  Lieutenant  Carrington?  " 

"  Until  death,"  he  said  earnestly. 

"  But  I  have  no  intention  of  dying  for  a  long  while 
to  come." 

"  I  pray  to  God  to  fulfil  that  intention  for  you." 

"  Then  how  can  your  heart  —  as  you  are  pleased  to 
call  it  —  remain  in  my  keeping  for  that  long  while  ? 
.  .  .  Whilst  you  are  in  the  Antipodes  and  I  in  Thanet 
...  it  will  get  lost  midway  ...  in  the  great  open 
sea." 

"  The  great  open  sea  will  not  always  be  between  us, 
dear,  will  it?" 

"  I  don't  know.  I  should  imagine  that  it  would  be 
.  .  .  most  of  the  time.  .  .  .  You  are  going  to  the 
Antipodes  to-morrow,  are  you  not  ?  " 

"  I  am  going  to  Malta  .  .  .  but  I  shall  soon  be 
back." 

"Indeed?     How  interesting !  " 

And  she  sank  languidly  upon  the  sofa.  But  in  a 
moment  now  he  was  near  her,  kneeling  beside  her,  and 
trying  to  imprison  her  hands.  Gone  was  the  merri- 
ment, the  patience,  the  softness  from  his  eyes,  passion, 
anger,  and  reproach  glowed  within  their  depths. 


A  BROKEN  HEART  225 

"  Meadowsweet,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  was  harsh, 
for  she  had  wounded  him  cruelly  and  unwarrantably, 
and  he  no  longer  could  bear  the  pain  of  that  wound, 
"  in  the  name  of  God  cease  this  fooling,  dear!  I  am 
only  a  man  .  .  .  nothing  of  a  saint  .  .  .  I'll  bear  a 
great  deal  from  you  .  .  .  but  not  this  .  .  .  not  this. 
.  .  .  This  is  beyond  my  strength." 

"  What  is  beyond  your  strength.  Lieutenant  Car- 
rington?  "  she  queried  gaily.  "  Why  are  you  so  sol- 
emn ?     I  don't  understand  you." 

"  Meadowsweet  ..." 

"  Why  do  you  go  on  calling  me  that?  It  is  so  sense- 
less; my  name  is  Boadicea  .  .  .  and  for  Heaven's 
sake  do  sit  down  properly,  and  leave  my  hands  alone. 
.  .  .  Aunt  Caroline  will  be  here  directly.  .  .  ." 

"  To  me  you  are  Meadowsweet,"  he  said  slowly, 
trying  to  control  himself,  to  keep  calm  in  face  of  this 
awful  nightmare,  which  was  fast  becoming  reality; 
"  you  were  Meadowsweet  until  just  now,  when  you 
started  playing  so  cruelly  with  me.  You  were  Mead- 
owsweet when  you  lay  in  my  arms.  .  .  ." 

"  In  your  arms  ?  .  .  ."  she  ejaculated  in  mock  sur- 
prise.   "  Come,  come,  you  must  not  exaggerate.  .  .  ." 

"  In  my  arms,"  he  reiterated  fervently.  "  You 
were  my  Meadowsweet  when  my  lips  sought  and  found 
your  own  .  .  .  when  you  returned  my  kiss  and  quiv- 
ered with  passion  like  a  rose  under  the  subtle  touch 
of  the  bee.  .  ,  ." 

"  Really,  Lieutenant  Carrington !  .  .  ." 

"  You  were  my  Meadowsweet  when  you  told  me  that 
you  loved  me.  ..." 

"I?" 


226  MEADOWSWEET 

*'  When  you  promised  to  be  my  wife." 
"I?  Your  wife?  .  .  .  Your  wife?  .  .  ."  And 
once  more  her  ringing  laugh  echoed  from  end  to  end 
of  the  room.  "  Really,  that  is  the  funniest  thing  I 
have  heard  for  a  long  time.  I  promised  to  be  your 
wife?     When?" 

"  In  the  orchard.     Half  an  hour  ago." 


"  You  were  dreaming." 


*'  Indeed,  it  seems  as  if  I  must  have  been." 

"  Then  I  really  must  ask  you,  Lieutenant  Carring- 
ton,  to  wake  up  from  a  dream  which  has  such  very 
unpleasant  consequences  for  me.  ...  I,  your  wife? 
Did  you  ask  me  to  be  your  wife?  " 

"  Have  you  forgotten  ?  " 

"  No.     But  did  you?  "  she  insisted. 

"  I  still  ask  you  on  my  knees  to  leave  off  torturing 
me." 

"  And  to  be  your  wife?  " 

"  And  to  be  my  wife." 

"  Then  stay  on  your  knees  just  half  a  minute  longer, 
Lieutenant  Carrington,  for  here  comes  Aunt  Caroline 
with  Cousin  Barnaby,  and  I  don't  think  that  they 
ought  to  miss  the  fun." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

A   STORMY   PFTREL 

He  would  then  and  there  have  risen  from  his  knees 
if  he  could,  but  he  seemed  rooted  to  the  ground.  His 
limbs  were  paralysed;  he  was  unable  to  move,  for  he 
felt  just  like  a  man  who  has  received  a  stunning  blow 
on  the  head. 

She  had  risen  to  her  feet  —  calm,  smiling  and  self- 
possessed —  just  when  Aunt  Caroline  entered  the 
room  with  Cousin  Barnaby  at  her  heels. 

When  Aunt  Caroline  saw  the  pretty  picture  — 
Boadicea  in  her  quaint  old-fashioned  dress,  standing 
there  laughing  gaily,  and  Lieutenant  Carrington  kneel- 
ing at  her  feet,  she  sighed  with  utmost  satisfaction. 
It  was  delicious  to  see  these  two  beautiful  creatures  in 
love  with  one  another,  and  the  wedding-cake  would  be 
the  finest  that  Aunt  Caroline  had  ever  baked. 

"  Oh,  Aunt   Caroline,  there  3^ou  are !  "   exclaimed  • 
Boadicea.     "  I   am   so   glad  you   have   come.     Lieu- 
tenant Carrington  was  just  busy  making  violent  love 
to  me." 

"  Of  course  he  was,  child,  of  course  he  was !  "  said 
Aunt  Caroline,  somewhat  taken  aback  and  not  a  little 
shocked.  "  But  you  must  not  shout  about  it  like 
that." 

"  Why  not  ?     It  is  so  funny !  " 

"Funny?  .  .  .  My  dear  child! 

22^ 


>> 


228  MEADOWSWEET 

"  Yes,  Aunt.  Don't  you  see  how  funny  It  is  ? 
Here's  this  gallant  officer  who  asks  the  young  savage 
from  the  country  to  be  his  wife.  What  do  you  think 
the  birds  will  say  to  it  ...  or  the  frogs  or  the  beetles 
or  the  bees.  .  .  .  They'll  laugh,  of  course.  .  .  .  We'll 
all  laugh  here  .  .  .  even  the  toads  and  bats  will  wink, 
for  we  in  the  country  have  fooled  the  man  from  town." 

"  Meadowsweet,  have  you  no  pity?"  murmured  the 
broken-hearted  man. 

"  Child,  child !  "  exclaimed  Aunt  Caroline  in  utter 
bewilderment.  "What  in  the  world  are  you  talking 
about?  What  does  it  all  mean?  I  don't  understand 
you?" 

"  It's  not  at  all  difficult  to  understand.  Aunt  dear. 
Here's  a  fine  gentleman  who  had  it  in  his  head  that  I 
cared  for  him,  and  that  I  really  meant  to  be  his  wife." 

"  So  you  did !  "  retorted  Aunt  Caroline. 

"  H  she  didn't,  she  ought  to  be  stuffed  and  kept  in 
this  museum  as  a  stormy  petrel ! "  growled  Cousin 
Barnaby. 

"  I  never  intended  to  marry  him,"  said  Boadicea 
firmly — "never!  I  never  meant  to  be  his  wife  .  .  . 
the  wife  of  an  empty-headed,  smooth-tongued  gallant 
—  never !  never !  .  .  .  I  fooled  him  as  much  as  ever  I 
could  —  because  he  called  me  a  savage  and  I  wanted  to 
be  revenged  on  him.  .  .  .  And  I  think  that  it  is  the 
funniest  thing  In  all  the  world  to  see  how  I  suc- 
ceeded! .  .  ." 

Then  as  Aunt  Caroline  remained  speechless  with 
horror  and  confusion,  and  Cousin  Barnaby  sat  down 
in  utter  resignation  at  this  new  disturbance  of  his 
peace,  Carrington  rose  to  his  feet. 


A  STORMY  PETREL  229 

"  It  is  unnecessary  to  say  more,  Miss  Aldmarshe," 
he  said  quite  calmly.  "  Am  I  to  understand  that  your 
desire  is  to  intimate  to  me  .  .  ." 

"  That  I  decline  the  honour  of  your  hand  in  mar- 
riage, Lieutenant  Carrington.  Yesl  that  is  my  de- 
sire," she  said. 

And  she  swept  him  a  deep  and  ironical  curtsey. 

"  My  dear  child !  "  murmured  Aunt  Caroline. 

"Oh,  Aunt!  isn't  it  funny?"  cried  Boadicea,  whose 
voice  now  had  become  almost  as  shrill  as  Olive's,  be- 
cause she  found  the  present  game  terribly  difificult  to 
play,  and  sobs  were  fighting  laughter  for  mastery  over 
her.  "  Lieutenant  Carrington,  I  do  wish  you  could 
see  yourself,  how  foolish  you  look!  But  you  looked 
still  more  foolish  in  the  orchard,  let  me  tell  you,  when 
with  sheep's  eyes,  and  sickly  sighs,  you  told  your  won- 
derful legend  of  fairy  flowers  and  meadowsweet  and 
—  what  was  it  ?  —  the  West  Wind  I  .  .  .  You  were  so 
engrossed  in  your  story  that  you  did  not  notice 
how  the  young  savage  was  laughing  at  you  all  the 
time." 

"  At  any  rate  I  know  it  now.  Miss  Aldmarshe,"  he 
said  quietly.     "  Have  I  your  permission  to  go  ?  " 

His  face  was  so  ravaged  with  grief  that  Boadicea 
herself  would  have  been  struck  by  it  had  she  dared  to 
look  at  him.  But  she  w^ould  not  trust  herself  to  do 
that;  she  was  terribly  afraid  of  breaking  down,  of 
letting  him  see  how  terribly  she  suffered,  how  terribly 
she  had  been  shamed. 

He  was  a  liar  and  a  cheat,  and  no  doubt  for  the  mo- 
ment his  fatuous  vanity  was  smarting  under  the  blow ; 
at  best  he  might  be  feeling  relieved  at  thought  that  he 


230  MEADOWSWEET 

was  free  once  more,  free  to  break  other  hearts,  to  He 
to  other  women  who  trusted  him  as  she  had  done. 

Therefore  she  would  not  look  at  him,  but  poured  out 
words  which  she  hoped  would  lash  him  like  a  whip; 
she  made  fun  of  every  word  he  uttered,  taking  a  sort 
of  grim  pleasure  in  heaping  odium  and  desecration  on 
the  smouldering  ashes  of  her  love. 

"His  wife?"  she  reiterated  again  and  again,  now 
addressing  Aunt  Caroline,  now  speaking  to  the  empty- 
air,  to  Cousin  Barnaby,  or  to  absent-minded  Uncle 
Jasper.  "Really,  I  think  I  shall  die  of  laughter! 
Why  don't  you  laugh,  Aunt?  ...  I  fooled  him,  you 
know  .  .  .  made  him  think  that  I  cared  .  .  .  and  he 
talked  sentiment  and  poetry  to  me,  the  little  savage 
whom  he  despised  .  .  .  why  don't  you  laugh,  Cousin 
Barnaby?" 

And  she  ran  up  to  Mr.  Crabtree,  seized  him  by  the 
coat-tails,  just  like  the  boisterous  little  madcap  she 
used  to  be,  and  she  dragged  him  up  from  his  chair  and 
twirled  him  and  whirled  him  round  and  round,  laugh- 
ing all  the  time,  as  if  she  was  the  maddest,  merriest 
creature  on  the  whole  of  God's  earth. 

Aunt  Caroline  looked  at  her  almost  in  fear.  She 
thought  that  the  child  had  gone  mad.  Even  Uncle 
Jasper  woke  from  his  absorption  and  stared  down  at 
the  strange  bacchanalian  dance.  But  he  did  not  think 
that  little  Boadicea  was  mad,  he  had  often  seen  her  in 
these  boisterous  moods.  She  had  always  been  a 
strange  and  a  wilful  child! 

Then  suddenly,  in  the  very  midst  of  her  maddest 
frolic,  Boadicea  stopped  short.  Her  eyes  had  met 
those  of  Jack  Carrington.     Her  whole  figure  stiffened, 


A  STORMY  PETREL  231 

the  hysterical  laughter  died  on  her  lips;  her  face  be- 
came stern  and  set  and  her  cheeks  deadly  pale. 

With  one  quick,  imperious  gesture,  she  pointed  to 
the  door,  and  looking  straight  at  him,  she  said  loudly : 

"  Go  1 " 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

A   HOPELESS    OUTLOOK 

And  after  that  came  dreary,  dreary  days  in  endless 
succession,  dreary  days  the  Hke  of  which  had  never 
been  in  this  world  before. 

Everything  became  a  hopeless,  colourless  blank,  life 
was  just  one  dreary  thing  after  another;  getting  up  in 
the  morning,  helping  Aunt  Caroline  about  the  house, 
and  going  to  bed  in  the  evening.  There  was  nothing 
else,  nothing  to  look  forward  to  in  the  morning,  noth- 
ing to  look  back  upon  in  the  evening.  Birds'-nesting 
was  uninteresting,  the  old  mare  slow  in  her  trot,  the 
nightingales  had  ceased  to  sing,  and  only  the  weari- 
some cuckoo  sent  his  monotonous  tune  through  the 
flower-scented  air. 

Of  course,  it  was  impossible  to  go  into  the  orchard 
now;  that  was  beyond  the  capacity  of  any  human  soul. 
It  was  impossible  to  stroll  in  the  long  grass,  or  to  sit 
in  the  forked  branches  of  the  old  cherry-tree;  the 
plums  were  ripening  fast;  there  would  soon  come  the 
awful  moment  when  they,  too,  must  be  gathered  for 
jam-making. 

Boadicea,  thinking  of  the  day  when  she  would  per- 
force have  to  go  into  the  orchard,  and  perch  upon  a 
ladder  that  would  be  resting  perhaps  against  the  very 
tree  where  he  .  .  .  Boadicea,  thinking  of  that,  felt 
that  life  could  not  hold  worse  tortures  for  any  living 

232 


A  HOPELESS  OUTLOOK  233 

heart  than  the  revisiting  of  places  where  Happiness 
and  Love  had  paid  such  fleeting  visits. 

And  the  worst  of  it  was  that  in  the  midst  of  all  this 
weariness  and  monotony  there  was  a  part  to  play. 
Boadicea  was  not  the  woman  —  she  was  a  woman  now 
—  to  wear  her  sorrows,  the  signs  of  her  broken  heart, 
upon  her  face.  Neither  Aunt  Caroline  nor  Uncle  Jas- 
per nor  Cousin  Barnaby  should  see  that  she  was  a  mis- 
erable, broken-hearted  creature,  who  cried  half  the 
night  in  unspeakable  wretchedness,  and  was  wearing 
out  her  young  life  in  bitter  regrets.  No!  they  should 
see  nothing  of  her  misery,  and  neither  should  Olive. 
Oh,  above  all,  Olive  should  see  nothing,  Olive  who  also 
had  lied,  who  also  had  cheated,  Olive  who  had  at  last 
fallen  from  the  pedestal  where  her  adoring  sister  had 
enshrined  her  all  these  years. 

Uncle  Jasper  and  Cousin  Barnaby  were,  of  course, 
too  much  absorbed  —  one  in  his  books,  the  other  in 
himself  —  to  notice  any  change  in  Boadicea.  She  ac- 
companied Uncle  Jasper  in  his  birds'-nesting  expedi- 
tions, and  looked  after  Cousin  Barnaby's  hot  water 
bottle,  just  the  same  as  she  had  always  done. 

Aunt  Caroline,  however,  was  not  quite  so  blind. 
She  could  not  help  noticing  that  the  child's  eyes  were 
now  always  circled  with  dark  lines,  that  she  ate  very 
little,  and  that  her  cheeks  and  chest  were  rapidly  falling 
in.  She  prescribed  rhubarb  and  treacle  and  dandelion 
root,  all  of  which  Boadicea  obediently  and  cheerfully 
took,  but  the  girl's  appetite  did  not  return,  nor  did  her 
cheeks  regain  their  roundness. 

All  of  which  greatly  puzzled  Aunt  Caroline.  The 
situation  was  altogether  beyond  her  comprehension. 


234  MEADOWSWEET 

It  was  Boadicea  who  had  behaved  shamefully  towards 
Lieutenant  Carrington  —  Mamie  Carrington's  boy  — 
and  yet  it  was  Boadicea  who  seemed  miserable,  and 
who  had  lost  her  appetite;  therefore  the  child's  pale 
cheeks  and  loss  of  appetite  could  not  on  the  face  of  it 
have  anything  to  do  with  the  broken  engagement: 

Aunt  Caroline  tried  to  question  Boadicea,  but  her 
anxiety  was  met  with  such  placid  serenity,  and  with 
such  gentle  obstinacy  that  she  soon  gave  up  trying  to 
find  out  anything  from  the  child. 

After  that  highly  improper,  unladylike  scene  in  the 
museum  that  evening.  Lieutenant  Carrington  had 
called  —  only  once  —  on  the  following  morning  to 
proffer  his  respectful  adieux  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Heming- 
ford.  Boadicea  had  not  come  down  to  see  him,  and 
he  went  away,  after  staying  exactly  ten  minutes  by  the 
museum  clock,  and  Aunt  Caroline  declared  that  they 
were  the  most  uncomfortable  ten  minutes  which  she 
had  ever  spent. 

H.M.S.  Dolphin  made  tracks  for  the  Mediterranean 
that  self -same  afternoon,  and  since  then  one  letter  had 
come  from  Lieutenant  Carrington  for  Mrs.  Heming- 
ford,  and  one  for  Boadicea.  Both  letters  had  been 
posted  from  Cherbourg;  in  the  one  written  to  Aunt 
Caroline  Jack  had  endeavoured  to  express  his  grati- 
tude for  all  the  kindness  which  had  been  showered  upon 
him  at  Old  Manor  Farm. 

Aunt  Caroline  had  cried  when  she  read  the  letter ;  it 
was  so  beautifully  written,  she  said,  and  showed  what 
a  noble-hearted  fellow  Mamie  Carrington's  boy  had 
proved  himself  to  be.     She  expressed  the  fervent  wish 


A  HOPELESS  OUTLOOK  235 

that  some  day  he  would  meet  a  really  nice  girl,  who 
would  make  him  as  happy  as  he  deserved  to  be. 

Olive  had  been  in  the  hall  when  the  postman  brought 
the  two  letters ;  she  it  was  who  persuaded  Aunt  Caro- 
line not  to  give  the  other  one  to  Boadicea. 

"  The  child  is  so  very  determined,"  she  said,  "  and 
so  bitter  on  the  subject  of  Lieutenant  Carrington  just 
now,  that  to  allow  a  correspondence  to  be  started  be- 
tween them  at  this  juncture  would  only  aggravate  the 
situation  and  cause  a  great  deal  of  unhappiness  to 
both  sides." 

Aunt  Caroline  would  have  demurred,  but  Olive  al- 
ways had  an  irresistible  way  with  her. 

"  I  shouldn't  give  this  letter  to  Boadicea  just  now, 
Aunt,"  she  said,  with  that  authoritative  air  of  hers 
which  Aunt  Caroline  never  could  disregard.  "  Let  me 
put  it  by  for  a  little  while  —  say,  for  a  month  or  two 
—  until  the  child's  curious  temper  has  had  time  to  calm 
down,  and  she  is  able  to  look  at  things  a  little  more 
coolly.  I  do  firmly  believe  that  if  you  will  only  give 
her  time,  and  in  the  meanwhile  do  not  even  mention 
Lieutenant  Carrington's  name  to  her,  everything  may 
yet  be  well." 

"  Do  you  really  think  so,  Olive  ?  "  said  Aunt  Caro- 
line, with  a  sigh. 

"  I  do  really.  I  am  sure  you  would  be  doing  an 
infinity  of  harm  by  giving  the  child  this  letter  at  the 
present  moment.  You  know  what  she  is:  impulsive 
and  wilful  to  a  degree!  She  would,  in  her  present 
mood,  probably  send  an  answer  back  to  Lieutenant 
Carrington  which  would  offend  him  beyond  the  hope 


236  MEADOWSWEET 

of  his  ever  forgiving  her.     Silence  and  his  continued 
absence  are  the  best  chances  of  reconcihation." 

Of  course,  Aunt  CaroHne  was  far  too  unsophisti- 
cated to  see  through  OHve's  clever  machinations.  She 
firmly  believed  that  her  worldly  niece's  advice  could 
not  help  but  be  sound,  and  never  for  a  moment  did  it 
enter  her  head  that  Olive's  desire  to  gain  time  and  to 
keep  Boadicea  and  Lieutenant  Carrington  apart  was 
solely  actuated  by  her  selfish  hope  that  she  in  the 
meanwhile  would  succeed  in  regaining  Jack's  regard 
and  in  once  more  enchaining  his  truant  allegiance  to 
herself. 

"  Very  well,"  said  Aunt  Caroline  after  a  brief  mo- 
ment of  hesitation,  "  I'll  put  the  letter  by,  and  only 
give  it  to  Boadicea  when  I  see  that  she  is  in  a  better 
frame  of  mind." 

"  No,  no,"  protested  Olive.  "  If  you  put  that  let- 
ter by.  Aunt,  you  will  never  be  able  to  find  it  when  the 
time  comes  for  giving  it  to  the  child.  Let  me  take 
charge  of  it.  I'll  give  it  her  just  at  the  right  moment, 
you  may  be  sure  of  that." 

Thus  did  Olive's  scheme  succeed  most  admirably. 
After  a  little  more  persuasion  she  got  Aunt  Caroline 
round  to  her  way  of  thinking,  nor  had  the  good  soul 
any  thought  of  seriously  opposing  her  niece  in  such  a 
matter.  Lady  Jeffreys,  who  was  one  of  the  most 
prominent  members  of  London  society,  would  be  sure 
to  know  exactly  what  had  best  be  done  under  these 
very  trying  conditions.  Aunt  Caroline  soon  became 
convinced  that  it  was  distinctly  her  duty  to  withhold 
Lieutenant  Carrington's  letter  from  Boadicea,  at  any 


A  HOPELESS  OUTLOOK  .    237 

rate,  temporarily,  whereupon  she  handed  it  over  with- 
out further  demur  to  OHve. 

After  the  episode  Aunt  Caroline  became  greatly  ab- 
sorbed in  the  making  of  jams,  pickles,  and  preserves, 
and  it  was  small  wonder  that,  in  the  midst  of  these 
important  duties,  she  wholly  forgot  all  about  Lieu- 
tenant Carrington's  letter.  In  fact,  after  a  while  she 
managed  to  forget  all  about  Lieutenant  Carrington 
himself  and  his  engagement  to  Boadicea.  A  day  or 
two  after  the  incident  of  the  letter  Olive  announced 
her  intention  of  leaving  Old  Manor  Farm  at  the  end 
of  her  prolonged  visit.  She  proposed  to  spend  the  re- 
mainder of  the  summer  at  a  fashionable  watering-place 
on  the  Continent. 

Boadicea  took  farewell  of  the  sister  —  whom  she 
had  so  dearly  loved  —  almost  with  a  feeling  of  relief. 
Olive's  presence  in  the  house  had  greatly  added  to  her 
misery.  She  felt  how  completely  shipwrecked  were 
all  her  illusions  and  all  her  joys  of  life.  The  man 
whom  she  had  loved,  the  sister  whom  she  had  trusted, 
had  been  the  two  first  teachers  who  had  taught  her 
how  base  and  deceitful  human  creatures  could  be.  It 
was  a  lesson  which  she  was  not  likely  to  forget.  The 
shadow  which  now  hung  over  her  life  would  no  doubt 
never  be  lifted.  It  had  altered  her  entirely,  her  soul 
and  her  mind  were  alike  different  to  what  they  had 
been  before,  even  her  body  had  undergone  a  change. 
She  felt  no  longer  young,  no  longer  full  of  life  and 
joy,  things  which  before  had  delighted  her  no  longer 
pleased  her  now.  She  did  not  care  what  happened, 
for  nothing  could  happen  that  would  ease  the  load  of 
sorrow  and  of  disappointment  from  her  heart. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

A   SENTIMENTAL   CONVERSATION 

And  then  the  summer  and  the  autumn  went  by. 

Aunt  CaroHne  had  made  strawberry  jam,  then 
cherry  jam,  then  walnut  pickle,  and  finally  damson 
cheese,  after  which  came  the  curing  of  bacon,  the  fat- 
tening of  the  Christmas  turkey,  the  making  of  the 
twelve  Christmas  puddings  —  one  for  the  first  Sunday 
of  every  month,  to  be  eaten  throughout  the  year  when 
the  Vicar  of  Minster  came  over  to  dine  at  Old  Manor 
Farm  after  the  Communion  service. 

Sir  Baldwin  and  Lady  Jeffreys  had  spent  a  couple 
of  months  on  the  Continent,  then  they  settled  down 
at  Ashford  Great  Court  —  their  country  residence  — 
for  the  shooting,  and  Lady  Jeffreys  gave  some  very 
smart  parties  there  during  the  autumn.  The  echo  of 
these  fashionable  entertainments  did  reach  sometimes 
as  far  as  Old  Manor  Farm,  Mr.  Culpepper  riding  over 
every  now  and  again  from  the  Abbey  to  take  tea  with 
Mr.  Hemingford,  and  bringing  over  the  news  with 
him,  but  Aunt  Caroline  was  too  busy  about  the  house 
to  take  a  great  deal  of  interest  in  social  events,  and  it 
really  seemed  now  as  if  Olive  and  her  world  were  very 
far  removed  from  the  humble  folk  in  Thanet. 

Though  Ashford  was  distant  from  Old  Manor 
Farm  only  twenty-two  miles.  Lady  Jeffreys  never 
came  throughout  the  autumn  to  visit  her  uncle  and 

?38 


A  SENTIMENTAL  CONVERSATION     239 

aunt.  She  wrote  several  pleasant  and  chatty  letters  to 
Boadicea,  and  made  many  agreeable,  if  somewhat 
vague,  suggestions  that  the  child  should  come  and 
spend  a  few  days  at  Ash  ford  Great  Court.  But  to 
these  Invitations  Boadicea  gave  no  reply,  nor  did  Olive 
seem  to  expect  any;  she  never  fixed  any  definite  time 
for  the  visit,  and  so  it  never  came  about. 

Twice  during  that  autumn  did  Sir  Baldwin  come 
riding  over  in  the  morning,  having  made  an  early  start 
from  home ;  but  he  only  stayed  to  dinner  and  returned 
in  the  afternoon.  He  seemed  more  morose  even  than 
usual,  and  was  apparently  very  wrathful  with  Boadi- 
cea for  her  treatment  of  Lieutenant  Carrington.  But 
he  was  far  too  well-bred  and  far  too  reserved  In  his 
speech  to  make  open  allusion  to  such  matters,  since  he 
would  not  consider  it  his  business  to  do  so. 

Directly  after  Christmas  he  and  Lady  Jeffreys  went 
to  Bath,  as  was  customary  with  them  and  a  great  many 
fashionable  folk.  They  stayed  there  some  little  time, 
Sir  Baldwin  being  greatly  troubled  with  gout  that 
year ;  but  exactly  how  long  they  were  there  I  could  not 
tell  you,  nor  where  they  went  to  after  that.  All 
I  know  Is  that  In  May  they  had  once  more  returned 
to  their  town  house  In  St.  James's-street,  which  had 
been  beautifully  redecorated  in  view  of  the  coming 
season,  and  that  all  the  fashionable  journals  of  that 
year  speak  In  glowing  terms  of  Lady  Jeffreys'  entranc- 
ing beauty,  and  of  her  charm  as  one  of  the  leading 
hostesses  of  the  day. 

The  King  and  Queen,  as  you  know,  graced  her 
house  with  their  presence  on  one  occasion,  and  she  con- 
stantly entertai)l?4  the  elite  of   fashionable  London 


240  MEADOWSWEET 

society.  Never,  in  fact,  had  Olive  more  cause  to  be 
satisfied  with  her  own  dainty  person  and  with  the  cir- 
cumstances of  Hfe  which  rendered  all  things  extremely 
pleasant  to  her. 

Jack  Carrington  was  home  on  leave  after  nine 
months  spent  in  Malta.  He  had  been  invalided  home, 
as  he  had  greatly  suffered  from  low  fever,  a  fact  not 
to  be  wondered  at,  considering  the  heat  of  the  climate 
of  Malta  and  the  primitive  methods  of  sanitation  dis- 
played at  that  otherwise  delightful  station. 

At  first  Olive  had  been  greatly  shocked  at  Lieuten- 
ant Jack's  altered  appearance.  He  looked  like  a  mid- 
dle-aged man,  with  bowed  shoulders,  and  a  touch  of 
grey  on  the  temples.  Low  fever  was  evidently  a  very 
trying  complaint,  one  that  affects  the  mind  as  well  as 
the  body,  for  Jack's  spirits  had  lost  all  their  buoyancy. 
He  seemed  listless  and  apathetic  even  in  the  presence 
of  the  prettiest  woman  in  London,  and  Olive  vainly 
waited  for  those  charming  tokens  of  gallantry  with 
which  Lieutenant  Jack  had  delighted  her  and  won  her 
regard  a  year  ago. 

Of  course,  the  task  of  looking  after  the  bodily  wel- 
fare of  a  young  and  well-looking  naval  lieutenant  is 
often  a  pleasing  one,  more  especially  when  that  naval 
lieutenant  is  interesting  to  a  large  circle  of  ladies,  who 
become  rivals  for  his  attentions.  Jack  Carrington  was 
always  popular  in  London  society,  but  seemed  doubly 
so  now  that  his  appearance  suggested  something  of 
sorrowful  romance.  Olive — •  whose  powers  of  hint- 
ing and  insinuating  were  far  above  the  average  — 
soon  drew  these  suggestions  of  romance  toward  her- 
self. 


A  SENTIMENTAL  CONVERSATION     241 

She  quickly  managed  to  persuade  her  friends  that 
Jack  Carrington's  altered  appearance  and  listless  man- 
ner were  due  to  his  hopeless  attachment  for  her;  and 
from  persuading  her  friends  in  this  manner  she  soon 
succeeded  in  persuading  herself. 

She  became  quite  convinced  that  Lieutenant  Jack 
was  pining  himself  into  an  early  grave  because  of  his 
thwarted  love  for  her,  and  his  chivalrous  sense  of 
duty  as  opposed  to  his  burning  passion. 

Whereupon  she  increased  her  show  of  kindness  to- 
ward him.  She  was  in  turn  motherly,  sisterly, 
friendly,  tender,  sorrowing,  pitying,  until  he  —  over 
grateful  for  her  charity  and  hating  that  very  society 
which  he  used  formerly  to  enjoy  —  found  pleasure 
only  in  his  visits  to  her. 

During  all  this  while  he  never  once  mentioned 
Boadicea  in  his  conversation,  and  on  this  Lady  Jeff- 
reys looked  as  a  good  sign.  But  in  her  work  of  re- 
capturing his  wandering  allegiance  she  went  charily 
to  work.  She  had  almost  alienated  him  once  by  over- 
impulsive  actions,  and  she  was  far  too  great  an  adept 
in  the  art  of  winning  an  admirer  to  fall  twice  into  the 
same  error. 

It  was  one  evening  in  the  conservatory,  during  one 
of  her  most  brilliant  receptions,  that  Olive  received  the 
first  shock  which  told  her  that  everything  was  not  go- 
ing on  quite  as  well  as  she  could  have  wished. 

She  was  looking  radiantly  beautiful  that  night,  and 
was  conscious  of  her  own  irresistible  charm.  Whilst 
a  string-band  was  discoursing  a  dreamy  motet  by 
Lully,  she  lured  Jack  Carrington  into  the  conservatory. 
It  was  filled  with  lilies,  and  the  air  all  round  was  soft 


242  MEADOWSWEET 

and  fragrant.  The  sound  of  the  music  penetrated 
faintly  to  this  distant  part  of  the  room,  and  dim  hghts 
burned  low  among  the  fronds  of  ferns  and  the  gently 
swaying  curtains  of  maiden-hair  or  of  grevillea. 

Olive  chose  a  low  seat  on  which  to  recline,  a  seat 
nestling  in  a  clump  of  palms  and  lilies  artistically 
grouped,  and  she  allowed  Jack  to  sit  close  beside  her, 
so  that  the  perfume  from  her  hair  and  her  handker- 
chief mingled  agreeably  with  that  of  the  flowers. 

The  folds  of  her  pretty  gown  fell  gracefully  across 
his  knee,  and  her  hand  fell  listlessly  to  her  side  and 
came  in  gentle  contact  with  his. 

Everything,  as  you  see,  was  well  disposed  for  senti- 
mental conversation.  Olive  sighed  with  satisfaction 
and  pleasurable  anticipation,  and  wielded  her  fan  pre- 
paratory to  embarking  on  those  delightful  paths  where 
the  ice  is  very  thin  indeed,  and  every  footstep  might 
lead  to  dangerous  falls.  And  yet,  in  spite  of  the  lilies 
and  of  the  fragrance  in  the  air,  in  spite  of  the  folds  of 
her  gown  and  the  proximity  of  her  hand,  Lieutenant 
Carrington  engaged  the  conversation  by  a  reference 
to  Old  Manor  Farm.  He  would  talk  of  Aunt  Caro- 
line and  of  her  excellent  dinners,  of  Cousin  Barnaby's 
ill  temper  and  Uncle  Jasper's  eccentricities,  and  this 
despite  the  fact  that  Olive  looked  bored  from  the  first 
and  subsequently  grew  markedly  impatient. 

Time  was  getting  on.  An  attentive  hostess  could  not 
absent  herself  from  her  guests  for  more  than  fifteen 
minutes,  and  ten  had  already  gone  by  in  a  discussion 
of  Aunt  Caroline's  pickles.  It  was  truly  exasperating. 
A  daintily  shod  foot  was  tapping  the  ground  in  angry 
impatience.     But  Lieutenant  Carrington  seemed  quite 


A  SENTIMENTAL  CONVERSATION     243 

oblivious  of  this  fact;  his  conversation  rambled  on,  and 
presently  he  mentioned  Boadicea's  name. 

He  did  not  say  much,  and  while  he  spoke  of  the  girl 
his  voice  certainly  had  none  of  that  softness  of  tone 
which  might  suggest  latent  tenderness.  Olive,  there- 
fore, had  no  cause  for  pique,  and  yet  she  bit  her  lower 
lip  almost  viciously,  so  angry  was  she  at  Jack's  want  of 
tact. 

Soon  the  subject  was  dropped.  Two  or  three  other 
couples  had  wandered  into  the  conservatory,  and  there 
was  no  longer  any  chance  on  this  perfect  occasion  for 
the  sentimental  conversation  which  Olive  had  desired. 

She  felt  very  provoked  and  dismissed  Lieutenant 
Jack  with  unusual  curtness.  He  seemed  quite  uncon- 
scious of  having  offended  her,  and  at  the  last,  when  he 
kissed  the  tips  of  her  fingers  bidding  her  adieu,  he 
actually  had  the  effrontery  to  beg  of  her  to  use  her 
influence  with  Boadicea,  that  the  young  girl  should 
grant  him  a  personal  interview. 

"  I  cannot  help  feeling  convinced,"  he  had  said 
earnestly,  "  that  her  extraordinary  attitude  towards 
me  is  the  result  of  a  grave  misunderstanding,  which 
perhaps  two  words  freely  exchanged  would  put  right. 
I  would  kneel  to  you  now,  Lady  Jeffreys,  if  I  dared, 
and  thus  beg  you  to  use  your  influence  with  her  that 
she  should  grant  me  one  short  interview." 

It  would  not  have  been  either  dignified  or  politic  to 
refuse.  Olive  promised  him  that  she  would  do  what 
she  could. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

A   BUNCH   OF   ROSES 

That  was  a  week  ago,  and  since  then  Olive  had  met 
Jack  Carrington  several  times,  and  never  once  did  he 
allude  to  Boadicea  or  to  his  request  for  an  interview 
with  her.  Of  course,  he  knew  that  some  days  must 
elapse  for  letters  to  pass  between  the  sisters  to  and  fro, 
but  Olive  consoled  herself  with  the  thought  that  if  he 
really  cared  for  the  interview  he  would  not  keep  such 
persistent  silence  about  it. 

He  came  to  see  her  on  the  morning  of  her  birthday, 
having  taken  the  gallant  precaution  to  send  a  bouquet 
of  La  France  roses  to  propitiate  the  goddess  who  he 
hoped  would  do  so  much  for  him.  On  Olive  alone  — 
so  he  thought  —  depended  his  chances  of  an  interview 
with  his  dear  little  Meadowsweet  —  still  infinitely  dear 
despite  the  hurt  which  she  had  so  wantonly  inflicted 
upon  him.  From  Olive  he  hoped  at  last  to  get  the 
welcome  news  that  he  might  journey  down  to  Thanet 
with  the  certainty  of  seeing  once  more  that  exquisite 
childlike  face,  the  great  wondering  eyes,  and  tender 
mouth  that  meant  earthly  happiness  to  him. 

But  Olive  had  no  idea  that  La  France  roses  sent  on 
her  birthday  morning  could  possibly  mean  anything 
but  discreet  and  respectful  admiration  for  herself,  and 
when  presently  Jack  Carrington  was  shown  into  her 

244 


A  BUNCH  OF  ROSES  245 

pretty  mauve  and  blue  room,  she  extended  a  very 
gracious  hand  to  him. 

"  How  kind  of  you  to  come,  Jack ! "  she  said,  with 
one  of  her  most  bewitching  smiles. 

"  Kind?  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  should  be  an  ungrate- 
ful wretch,  indeed,  if  I  did  not  at  least  pay  my  respects 
to  you,  Lady  Jeffreys,  on  your  birthday.  You  have 
always  been  such  a  good  friend  to  me." 

"  So  many  women  have  been  that  to  you.  Jack !  " 

"  Friends  ?  No,  I  think  not.  People  in  London 
have  been  more  than  kind.  But  on  the  whole  I  shall 
not  be  sorry  to  leave  England.  Society  is  not  much 
in  my  line  now,  is  it.  Lady  Jeffreys  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know !  You  seem  to  get  on  in  it 
remarkably  well.  But  what  makes  you  talk  of  leaving 
England  ?     You  are  not  going  away  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  am.  The  Dolphin  leaves  for  the  China 
seas  early  in  next  week." 

"  But  you  are  not  going  in  her?  " 

"Please  God,  lam!" 

"  But  you  have  been  offered  an  appointment  in  the 
Admiralty?" 

"  Yes.  Entirely  through  your  kind  influence.  Lady 
Jeffreys,  and  no  one  could  be  more  profoundly  grateful 
than  I  am  to  you,  but  .  .  ." 

He  paused,  hesitating  somewhat,  knowing  instinc- 
tively—  though  Heaven  knows  he  was  not  proud  of  it 
—  that  the  announcement  which  he  was  about  to  make 
would  affect  her  very  unpleasantly. 

He  questioned  her  with  a  look,  and  saw  that  she 
was  frowning,  and  that  her  face  was  hard  and  set,  just 


246  MEADOWSWEET 

as  it  often  was  when  anything  in  Hfe  occurred  in  op- 
position to  her  wishes. 

"You  have  refused  the  appointment?"  she  asked 
curtly. 

"  My  letter  of  refusal  and  of  thanks  goes  in  to- 
night." 

"  Don't  post  that  letter,  Jack !  "  she  entreated. 

"  I  really  must,  Lady  Jeffreys." 

"But  why?"  she  asked. 

"  I  can't  bear  to  stay  in  England,"  he  replied  dully. 
"  I  cannot  bear  it.  I  would  far  rather  go  away,  un- 
less .  .  ." 

"Unless  what?" 

"  Can't  you  guess  ?  " 

"  No.  I  cannot,"  she  said  more  softly,  thinking  in- 
deed that  she  could  guess  how  her  own  harshness  was 
driving  him  away  from  England.  "  Tell  me,  Jack, 
what  is  it  that  would  keep  you  in  London  ?  " 

Then  as  he  did  not  reply  immediately,  she  said 
more  languishingly  still : 

"  Why  do  you  hesitate,  Jack  ?  Tell  me.  I  might 
be  able  to  help  you." 

"  You  can  help  me,  Lady  Jeffreys,"  he  said  eagerly. 
"  That  brief  interview  with  Boadicea.  .  .  .  Have  you 
asked  her?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Olive  drily. 

Gone  was  all  the  softness  in  her  voice,  the  languor- 
ous look  in  her  eyes.  Her  sister's  name,  spoken  by 
Jack  at  this  moment,  had  acted  like  a  shower  of  icy 
water  upon  her  temperament,  so  ready  to  yield  and  to 
sentimentalise.  But  Jack  was  quite  unconscious  of 
the  change  in  her  voice.     He  did  not  notice  her  annoy- 


A  BUNCH  OF  ROSES  247' 

ance  any  more  than  he  had  understood  her  more  pas- 
sionate mood.  His  thoughts  were  of  Meadowsweet, 
and  of  the  hope  of  seeing  her,  and  everything  else  was 
as  if  it  never  existed  at  all. 

"  Will  she  .  .  .  will  she  grant  me  the  interview  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  She  refuses  to  see  you." 

"But  why  —  in  Heaven's  name?  Why?"  he 
urged. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you,"  she  replied  harshly.  "  Boadi- 
cea  is  a  curious  child,  as  you  know.  She  lent  herself 
readily  enough  at  first  to  the  brief  farce  of  an  engage- 
ment with  you ;  but  she  only  did  it  for  my  sake,  and 
because  she  really  thought  that  Sir  Baldwin  was  at 
that  moment  capable  of  doing  me  an  injury.  She 
never  cared  for  you  .  .  .  you  know." 

"  I  thought  that  she  did,"  he  murmured  almost  in- 
voluntarily, for  his  thoughts  had  quickly  flown  back 
to  that  glorious  day  in  June,  to  the  orchard  fragrant 
with  spring  flowers,  to  the  old  cherry-tree  in  the  forked 
branch  of  which  had  sat  his  little  Meadowsweet  with 
the  bright,  wondering  eyes,  and  the  red  lips  that  were 
so  good  to  kiss. 

"  Ah!"  said  Olive  more  gently,  as  she  put  a  hand 
upon  the  young  man's  shoulder;  "that  is  where  a 
man's  heart  is  so  strange.  Jack.  It  so  often  seeks  love 
where  none  exists,  and  passes  true  love  indifferently 
by." 

"  You  think,  Lady  Jeffreys,"  he  insisted  with  that 
sublime  tactlessness  of  a  heart  filled  with  the  image  of 
another  woman,  "  you  really  think  that  there  is  no 
hope  for  me? " 


248  MEADOWSWEET 

"  Hope  ?  "  she  retorted.  "  Why  should  you  speak 
of  hope  in  connection  with  a  heartless,  wayward 
child  ?  The  sooner  you  forget  her  the  better  for  your 
own  dignity,  I  should  imagine.  Your  vanity  alone  is 
wounded,  Jack,  believe  me.  You  will  soon  get  over 
it.  There  are  others,  you  know,  who  could  well  show 
you  of  what  depths  of  affection  a  woman's  heart  is 
capable." 

"  But  the  whole  thing  puzzles  me  so  hopelessly. 
Lady  Jeffreys.  ...  It  seems  to  me  as  if  I  should 
never  know  another  happy  hour  until  I  have  seen 
daylight  through  that  amazing  veil  of  mystery.  It  is 
all  so  unlike  Boadicea  .  .  .  she  is  so  simple-hearted 
...  so  true  and  loyal  in  her  disposition.  I  no  more 
can  think  of  her  playing  such  a  cruel  game  as  she 
seems  to  have  done  than  I  would  think  of  a  Madonna 
being  a  fickle  coquette." 

"  Lord  bless  my  soul,  man,"  exclaimed  Olive,  whose 
patience  was  now  utterly  exhausted,  and  who  took  no 
longer  any  pains  to  hide  her  anger,  "  did  you  come  to 
see  me  to-day  for  the  sole  purpose  of  gushing  over  my 
sister's  perfections?  For,  if  so,  let  me  tell  you  that 
your  rodomontades  are  not  at  all  to  my  liking." 

"  A  thousand  pardons.  Lady  Jeffreys !  "  he  rejoined 
quite  humbly.  "  I  seem,  indeed,  to  have  lost  myself 
as  well  as  my  manners  recently.  You  are  quite  right. 
I  must  not  plague  you  with  my  troubles.  May  I  take 
my  leave  now  ?  " 

She  hesitated  for  a  moment,  then  thought  it  best  to 
accede.  Jack  took  his  leave  without  another  word. 
He  was  evidently  not  in  the  mood  in  which  she  would 
have  liked  to  see  him,  and,  moreover,  she  wanted  to 


A  BUNCH  OF  ROSES  249 

think  matters  out  now,  for  they  had  shaped  themselves 
altogether  differently  to  what  she  had  anticipated. 

And  as  soon  as  she  was  alone  she  did  begin  to 
think. 

Though  nothing  of  very  serious  import  had  hap- 
pened, yet  somehow  she  felt  that  the  last  half-hour 
had  sounded  the  death-knell  of  her  own  hopes.  Ob- 
viously she  had  never  really  cared  for  Jack  Carring- 
ton,  not  in  the  same  sense  in  which  good  women  un- 
derstand the  words  "  to  care."  Hers  was  an  essen- 
tially shallow  nature,  wholly  incapable  of  lasting  or 
genuine  feeling  beyond  sympathy  for  and  love  of  self. 
Her  own  amusement  and  pleasure  was  the  ultimate 
aim  of  every  one  of  her  actions.  Jack  Carrington' 
had  been  the  lion  of  London  society,  and  it  had 
amused  her  to  chain  him  to  her  triumphant  chariot. 
She  liked  his  unsophisticated  gallantries,  the  atten- 
tions which  he  paid  her,  but  above  all  she  liked  the 
other  women  of  her  own  set  to  envy  her  her  conquest 
of  the  most  popular  man  in  London. 

It  had  amused  her  to  render  Sir  Baldwin  jealous, 
to  play  him  the  trick  of  outwitting  him  when  he  had 
tried  to  stop  the  scandal  that  coupled  her  name  with 
that  of  Lieutenant  Carrington  by  taking  her  away 
from  London  in  the  height  of  the  season;  but  she  was 
as  incapable  of  genuine  passion  as  of  sacrificing  her 
reputation  and  position  for  any  man  in  the  world. 

It  all  was  only  amusement.  If  Jack  Carrington 
had  broken  his  heart  over  her  she  would  have  been  still 
more  highly  amused. 

The  engagement  between  Boadicea  and  Lieutenant 
Carrington  she  had  looked  upon  as  a  necessity.     Her 


250  MEADOWSWEET 

own  bodily  safety  and  the  upholding  of  her  own  repu- 
tation were  of  far  greater  moment  than  the  feelings 
of  two  young  people  whose  obvious  duty  it  was  to 
protect  her  at  a  critical  moment  against  her  husband's 
violence.  But  when  the  first  breath  of  sentiment 
mingled  with  the  prosiness  of  the  mock  engagement, 
then  the  situation  ceased  to  be  amusing.  The  only 
strong  feeling  of  which  Olive  was  capable  was  that 
of  supreme  egoism.  Her  position  as  elder  sister  chap- 
eroning a  younger  one  did  not  please  her  in  the  least, 
and  she  certainly  would  not  allow  another  woman  to 
wrest  from  her  the  conquest  which  she  firmly  believed 
she  herself  had  made,  even  if  that  other  woman  hap- 
pened to  be  her  own  sister. 

No,  there  certainly  was  no  affection  in  her  heart  for 
Jack  Carrington,  but  there  was  a  vast  deal  of  vanity, 
and  that  vanity  had  received  a  severe  blow  when  she 
first  noticed  signs  of  awakening  love  for  another 
woman  in  the  man  whom  she  would  have  liked  to  tie  in 
perpetuity  to  her  own  apron  strings. 

She  fought  with  all  the  armoury  at  her  command  to 
regain  possession  of  Carrington's  allegiance,  and  her 
foremost  weapon  she  had  used  with  complete  effect. 
She  had  succeeded  in  parting  Jack  from  Boadicea, 
and  she  knew  her  sister  well  enough  to  be  quite  satis- 
fied that  the  blow  which  a  callous  and  lying  tongue  had 
dealt  would  remain  incurable  so  long  as  Boadicea  had 
no  opportunity  of  a  calm  explanation  with  Lieutenant 
Carrington.  The  subject,  of  course,  was  one  which 
the  young  girl  was  not  likely  to  put  into  crude  words 
at  any  time;  still,  an  interview  might  certainly  prove 
dangerous,    fraught  with  the   risk  that  Olive  might 


A  BUNCH  OF  ROSES  251 

stand  before  her  sister  and  before  the  man  whom  she 
still  desired  to  conquer  as  a  shameless  and  miserable 
liar. 

However,  there  was  certainly  no  fear  just  now  that 
that  interview  would  take  place.  Boadicea  was  safely- 
stowed  away  in  the  wilds  of  Thanet,  and  was  no  doubt 
busy  forgetting  in  the  midst  of  jams  and  pickles  that 
she  had  ever  been  engaged  to  marry  Lieutenant  Car- 
rington. 

As  for  Jack,  well,  I  must  confess  that  Lady  Jeffreys' 
thoughts  became  somewhat  troubled  on  that  subject. 
H  she  had  made  no  headway  in  his  affections  in  the 
past  few  weeks,  was  she  very  likely  to  succeed  in  doing 
so  as  time  went  on?  Her  vanity  —  which  was  ab- 
normal —  certainly  demanded  that  she  should  not  give 
up  even  this  semblance  of  conquest.  Some  women 
she  knew  of,  in  her  own  set,  would  indeed  jeer  at  her 
if  Lieutenant  Carrington  did  finally  break  away  from 
her  apron  strings.  But  her  desire  to  keep  him  in 
London  was  certainly  not  so  great  as  it  used  to  be. 
If  Jack  no  longer  dangled  round  her  skirts,  then  he 
might  as  well  go  to  the  China  seas.  Lady  Jeffreys 
had  but  to  lift  a  finger  and  she  would  soon  find  a  sub- 
stitute for  that  very  indifferent  admirer. 

Jack  was  not  amusing  when  he  talked  of  Aunt 
Caroline's  pickles  and  of  Boadicea's  eyes;  and  as  he 
ceased  to  be  amusing  so  his  personal  value  went  down 
in  Olive's  estimation. 

Moreover,  if  he  still  did  hanker  in  a  half-hearted 
manner  after  the  little  savage  from  Thanet,  he  would 
with  characteristic  masculine  obstinacy  persist  in  his 
desire  for  an  interview  with  her. 


252  MEADOWSWEET 

And  that  interview  must  not  take  place. 

On  that  —  if  on  nothing  else  —  was  Lady  Jeffreys 
absolutely  determined. 

She  preferred  the  China  seas  for  Jack  and  a  new 
admirer  for  herself. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

A    LITTLE   PLAN 

"  I  HAVE  just  met  Carrington  on  your  doorstep, 
m'dear!" 

"  Yes,  he  called  to  wish  me  a  happy  birthday  and  he 
brought  me  some  lovely  roses." 

Sir  Baldwin  had  spoken  quite  pleasantly,  and  she 
indifferently.  We  may  safely  assume  that  neither 
tone  was  wholly  sincere.  Sir  Baldwin  —  though  his 
jealousy  no  longer  fastened  itself  on  Lieutenant  Car- 
rington—  was  never  very  pleasant  when  the  young 
man  called  at  the  house  in  St.  James's-street,  nor  was 
Olive  ever  indifferent  when  her  husband  mentioned 
the  name  of  Jack. 

But  to-day  Sir  Baldwin's  mood  appeared  most  se- 
rene. He  did  not  frown  at  sight  of  the  roses,  and 
presently  he  took  possession  of  one  of  the  most  com- 
fortable chairs  in  the  room,  and  lounging  in  it  he 
looked  for  all  the  world  as  if  he  meant  to  stay  and 
have  a  long  chat  with  his  wife  —  a  thing  which,  be- 
lieve me,  he  very  seldom  did. 

"  I  understood  from  Lieutenant  Carrington,"  he 
said  complacently,  "  that  he  had  been  paying  you  his 
farewell  visit." 

"  Yes,"  she  replied  drily.  "  Lieutenant  Carrington 
proposes  to  refuse  the  splendid  appointment  offered 

253 


254  MEADOWSWEET 

him  in  the  AdmiraUy,  and  to  sail  in  his  old  ship  next 
week." 

"  And  all  because  a  flirty  miss  is  making  a  fool  of 
him." 

"  I  pray  you,  Sir  Baldwin,  not  to  be  so  coarse  in 
your  references  to  my  sister." 

"  I  only  speak  of  her  as  she  deserves.  I  have  no 
patience  with  the  girl,  and  only  wish  it  were  my  busi- 
ness to  give  her  a  sound  talking  to.  But  I  shall  get 
an  opportunity  one  of  these  days.  .  .  .  Why  don't  you 
speak  to  her,  Olive?  .  .  .  You  would  have  some  in- 
fluence over  her  —  curse  her  obstinacy !  " 

"  Boadicea  prefers  not  to  see  Lieutenant  Carring- 
ton  —  she  does  not  want  to  discuss  the  subject  at  all. 
She  has  told  me  so  in  her  letters  over  and  over  again." 

"The  heartless  little  reprobate!  .  .  .  You  women 
are  all  alike  .  .  .  and  we  men  are  just  a  lot  of  silly, 
gullible  fools!" 

"You  wrong  yourself,  at  any  rate,  Sir  Baldwin!" 

He  took  no  heed  of  the  obvious  sarcasm,  but  con- 
tinued in  the  same  pleasant,  even,  conversational  tone : 

"  I  must  say,  though,  that  I  had  thought  better  of 
little  Boadicea." 

"  And  did  you  tell  Lieutenant  Carrington  so  ?  " 

"  Yes.     Frankly,  I  did." 

"  And  what  was  his  remark  on  the  subject?  " 

"  He  merely  said  that  it  would  obviously  be  best  for 
him  to  sail  to  China.  He  thanked  me  for  my  solici- 
tude, and  he  desired  to  remain  your  ladyship's  and  my 
most  humble  and  most  devoted  servant." 

Sir  Baldwin  Jeffreys  was  in  the  habit  of  taking 
snuff,  a  habit  which  became  him  remarkably  well,  for 


A  LITTLE  PLAN  255 

he  had  fine,  aristocratic  hands,  and  a  selection  of 
beautiful  gold  and  enamelled  snuff-boxes.  He  took 
a  pinch  of  snuff  now,  an  act  which  left  him  free  quietly 
to  observe  his  wife,  to  note  her  impatient  frown,  and 
to  chuckle  to  himself  at  private  thoughts  of  his  own 
which  he  was  on  the  point  of  imparting  to  her. 

"  I  must  tell  you  that  I  did  give  Lieutenant  Carring- 
ton  the  advice  not  to  decide  about  that  Admiralty  ap- 
pointment just  yet,"  he  said  when  he  had  once  more 
restored  his  gold  snuff-box  to  his  pocket,  and  was 
again  lounging  in  the  luxurious  chair. 

"  Indeed  ?  "  she  remarked  casually.  "  I  thought 
that  he  was  obliged  to  give  his  decision  in  that  matter 
to-day." 

"  Yes.  But  I  told  him  that  so  much  can  happen  in 
one  day  .  .  .  say,  between  dawn  and  sunset." 

"  A  very  poetical  way  of  putting  it,  but  I  don't  sup- 
pose that  your  eloquence.  Sir  Baldwin,  would  cause 
Lieutenant  Carrington  to  change  his  plans." 

"  I  don't  know  so  much  about  that,"  retorted  Sir 
Baldwin,  with  marked  complacency.  "  I  certainly 
know  of  one  thing  that  would  keep  Carrington  hang- 
ing about  in  London." 

"  And  what  may  that  be?  " 

She  was  getting  a  little  impatient  with  his  obvious 
contentment  with  himself,  and  slightly  on  the  alert  for 
something  unpleasant  which  might  be  lurking  behind 
his  unaccustomed  good-humour. 

"  The  hope  of  an  interview  with  Boadicea,"  he  re- 
plied. 

"Ah?  I  doubt  if  Lieutenant  Carrington  has  any 
such  hope." 


256  MEADOWSWEET 

"  He  hadn't  until  just  now,  when  I  asked  him  to 
come  back  here  at  sunset.  .  .  ." 

She  turned  her  own  chair  right  round,  so  that  she 
could  look  him  full  in  the  face.  He  sat  there  smiling 
blandly,  with  his  finger-tips  tapping  against  one  an- 
other, his  head  slightly  cocked  on  one  side,  and  regard- 
ing his  wife  with  a  look  of  distinct  triumph. 

An  awful  fear  caused  her  heart  suddenly  to  stand 
still.  Every  drop  of  blood  fled  from  her  cheeks,  her 
eyes  were  dilated  and  her  lips  quivering.  But  she 
forced  herself  to  speak  quite  calmly,  vaguely  hoping 
that  her  face  was  not  betraying  all  that  she  felt. 

"  May  I  take  the  liberty  of  inquiring,  Sir  Baldwin, 
why  you  should  have  asked  Lieutenant  Carrington  to 
return  here  at  sunset  ?  " 

"  A  little  plan,"  he  said  airily  — "  a  little  plan  for 
which  I  entertain  the  greatest  hope." 

"  Indeed?'   May  I  ask  what  this  little  plan  is?  " 

"  Certainly,  my  dear.  Originally  it  was  a  desire  — 
a  not  very  unusual  one  with  me  —  of  pleasing  you." 

"  In  what  way  ?  " 

"  I  arranged  a  surprise  for  your  birthday." 

"  A  surprise !  " 

"  A  visit,  my  dear,  from  your  sister,"  he  said  tri- 
umphantly. 

To  Olive's  credit  be  it  said  that  she  did  not  wince 
under  this  sudden  blow.  On  the  contrary,  she  pulled 
herself  very  quickly  together  and  appeared  even  more 
tmconcerned  than  she  had  been  before.  But  the  blow 
was  all  the  more  cruel  as  it  was  quite  unexpected. 
She  seemed  in  one  moment  to  see  the  entire  edifice  of 
her  fabric  of  falsehoods  tottering  beneath  her  feet. 


A  LITTLE  PLAN  257' 

There  might  in  the  near  future  be  nothing  for  her  but 
more  and  more  lies,  under  most  humihating  condi- 
tions, or  the  tacit  acknowledgment  of  the  original  lie 
before  her  young  sister  and  before  Jack. 

The  position  would  be  intolerable.  For  the  mo- 
ment, of  course,  she  had  no  time  to  give  it  further 
thought.  Sir  Baldwin  was  gazing  on  her  with  that 
same  irritating  self-complacency,  and  it  would  be  mad- 
ness to  let  him  see  now  that  she  was  in  any  way  dis- 
turbed by  his  news. 

"  A  visit  from  Boadicea !  "  she  said,  feigning  pleased 
surprise.  "  Do  you  really  think  that  she  would 
come?  " 

"  I  am  sure  she  will,"  he  replied.  "  I  wrote  her 
some  days  ago  saying  that  you  seemed  very  dull  and 
lacking  in  spirits,  suffering  somewhat  from  megrims, 
and  so  on ;  and  I  begged  her  for  my  sake  to  come  over 
for  two  or  three  days  and  to  reassure  me,  if  possible, 
about  your  general  health." 

"Admirable,  admirable,  I  must  say!  Your  inven- 
tive powers  do  you  the  greatest  credit." 

"  Well,  I  was  afraid  that  she  might  not  come  unless 
I  put  it  that  way." 

"  Quite  so.  And  has  she  accepted  your  invita- 
tion?" 

"Yes,  she  has!" 

"  And  let  me  know  nothing  about  it?  " 

"  I  told  her  that  I  wished  her  coming  to  be  a  sur- 
prise for  your  birthday.  .  .  .  The  thought  pleased  her, 
I  think.  .  .  .  Anyway,  she  is  coming,"  he  concluded 
jovially. 

"When?"  she  asked. 


258  MEADOWSWEET 

"  Almost  Immediately.  I  sent  the  coach  with  re- 
lays to  fetch  her.  I  reckoned  that  she  would  arrive 
in  time  for  luncheon." 

Then  as  Olive  remained  silent,  too  much  absorbed 
in  her  own  thoughts  and  fears  now  to  make  an  at- 
tempt at  cheerfulness,  he  asked,  with  sudden  concern: 

"  You  are  glad,  Olive,  are  you  not  ?  " 

"Glad?  .  .  .  Glad?"  she  replied  vaguely.  "Of 
course  I  am  glad!  What  else  should  I  be?  It  is  a 
pleasant  surprise,  as  you  say." 

"  And  then  you  see  my  plan  ?  .  .  .  A  final  visit 
from  Carrington.  .  .  .  Eh?  .  .  .  Boadicea  here  .  .  . 
alone,  for  you  must  arrange  that.  .  .  .  What  do  you 
think  of  it  all?" 

"Think?  Think?"  she  said  as  quietly  as  she 
could,  for  her  voice  was  trembling  and  every  moment 
angry  tears  threatened  to  rise  to  her  eyes.  "  I  think 
it  an  admirable  plan  ...  to  force  my  sister  into  an 
unfortunate  marriage,  now  that  she  has  found  out  her 
mistake  and  realised  that  she  does  not  care  for  the 
man.  .  .  .  Admirably  thought  out,  indeed !  "  she  added 
more  vehemently,  whilst  a  tone  of  bitter  spite  crept 
into  her  voice.  "  Our  own  marriage  has  been  so  bril- 
liant a  success!  .  .  .  No  wonder  you  desire  to  see 
another  equally  such  perfectly  ill-assorted  pair!" 

"  But,  my  dear  .  .  ."  protested  Sir  Baldwin  feebly, 
for  he  had  been  wholly  taken  aback  by  his  wife's  ex- 
traordinary attitude. 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?  You  don't  expect  me,  I  pre- 
sume, to  be  over-delighted  at  the  prospective  unhappy 
marriage  which  you  desire  to  force  upon  my  sister." 

"  But  .  .  ." 


A  LITTLE  PLAN  259 

"  We  will  not  discuss  it  any  further,  Sir  Baldwin," 
she  said,  with  injured  dignity.  "  You  have  chosen  to 
take  my  sister's  fate  into  your  own  hands.  I  suppose 
that  when  the  inevitable  occurs  and  she  flies  to  me  for 
protection  against  the  husband  whom  you  will  have 
forced  upon  her,  you  will  be  prepared  to  give  her  a 
home." 

She  rose  from  her  chair  and  went  up  to  a  small 
writing-desk,  where  she  stood  for  awhile  with  her  back 
towards  her  husband,  fidgetting  with  some  papers, 
trying  to  compose  herself  into  some  semblance  of 
serenity. 

She  had  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  her  tirade 
had  left  poor  Sir  Baldwin  hopelessly  bewildered.  He 
was  certainly  wishing  to  goodness  that  he  had  never 
meddled  in  women's  affairs,  for  such  meddling  seemed 
invariably  to  lead  to  most  unpleasant  tantrums. 

"  Will  you  leave  me  here  now,"  she  said  after  awhile, 
"  to  receive  poor  Boadicea  ?  I  must  prepare  her  for 
the  ordeal  which  she  will  have  to  go  through,  poor 
child." 

Sir  Baldwin  rose  somewhat  awkwardly.  Though 
he  felt  rather  sheepish  and  subdued,  he  had  not  by  any 
means  given  up  the  belief  that  his  plan  was  an  excel- 
lent one,  and  that  he  was  doing  the  right  thing  by 
bringing  two  young  people  together  who  were  labour- 
ing under  a  misunderstanding. 

He  did  not  suggest  that  he  would  go  and  tell  Car- 
rington  not  to  come  to  St.  James's-street  to-night. 
Olive  had  half  hoped  that  he  would  do  so.  She  did 
not  dare,  however,  to  make  the  suggestion  herself. 
Sir  Baldwin  had  a  curious  disposition,  and  suspicions 


26o  MEADOWSWEET 

were  only  dormant  in  him;  they  might  be  aroused  at 
the  sHghtest  false  move  on  Olive's  part. 

She  allowed  him  to  go  without  any  further  com- 
ment. 

Then  she  sat  down  at  her  desk,  and  with  her  chin 
resting  in  her  hand  she  had  a  good  hard  "  think." 

She  thought,  and  thought,  and  thought  for  the  one 
way  possible  out  of  the  terrible  plight  in  which  her 
husband's  tactless  blunder  had  placed  her. 

Should  she  own  to  Boadicea  that  she  had  told  her 
a  lie,  or  should  she  persist  in  the  lie,  even,  if  necessary 
in  the  face  of  Lieutenant  Carrington's  denial?  Or 
would  Fate  be  kind  to  her  and  help  her  effectually  to 
keep  those  two  young  people  apart  ? 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

AN    AGREEABLE   SURPRISE 

The  luncheon-bell  had  just  been  rung. 

Sir  Baldwin  had  joined  Lady  Jeffreys  in  the  draw- 
ing-room, and  the  solemn  butler  had  thrown  the  dou- 
ble doors  wide  open  and  announced  in  a  cadaverous 
voice  that  "  Luncheon  was  served,"  when  the  cheerful 
noise  of  a  fanfare  upon  a  coach-horn  rang  clearly  from 
the  further  end  of  the  aristocratic  street. 

"  Your  guest,  Sir  Baldwin,"  said  Olive  drily.  "  We 
must  wait  now  until  my  sister  has  had  time  to  tidy 
herself  after  her  journey." 

She  sat  down  and  took  up  a  fashion  paper,  seeming 
absorbed  in  her  reading  and  totally  indifferent  to  the 
rattle  of  coach  wheels,  the  clatter  of  horses'  hoofs  on 
the  stone  pavement,  the  jingle  of  harness  and  shouts 
of  ostlers  and  grooms,  as  Sir  Baldwin's  heavy  travel- 
ling coach  swung  round  the  corner  from  Piccadilly  and 
came  to  a  halt  with  magnificent  precision  immediately 
in  front  of  the  stately  front  door  of  the  Jeffreys'  town 
mansion. 

Sir  Baldwin  seemed  agitated.  He  did  not  go  to  the 
window  to  see  the  arrival,  but  walked  up  and  down  the 
room,  with  his  hands  behind  his  back,  and  his  eyes 
wandering  from  time  to  time  furtively  in  the  direction 
of  his  wife. 

"  I  shall  have  to  put  luncheon  back  at  least  half  an 

261 


262  MEADOWSWEET 

hour,"  said  Olive  coolly,  as  she  stretched  her  shapely 
arm  toward  the  bell.  "  From  the  noise  that  is  going 
on  outside  I  imagine  that  Boadicea  has  brought  either 
an  enormous  quantity  of  luggage  with  her  or  else  some 
members  of  the  Thanet  household." 

There  certainly  was  an  extraordinary  amount  of 
noise  going  on  outside.  Half  a  dozen  people  seemed 
to  be  talking  at  one  and  the  same  time  and  at  the  top 
of  their  voices.  Sir  Baldwin  apparently  had  some 
misgivings  on  the  subject,  for  he  went  to  the  door  and 
opened  it. 

All  doubts  were  set  at  rest  then  and  there,  for  Aunt 
Caroline's  shrill  voice,  giving  confused  directions 
anent  a  multitude  of  boxes,  was  quite  unmistakable, 
and  two  or  three  other  voices  also  rose  from  below. 
Sir  Baldwin  turned  rather  sheepishly  toward  his  wife, 

"  They've  come,  my  dear,"  he  said  haltingly. 

"  You  mean  that  my  sister  has  come,  do  you  not, 
Sir  Baldwin?"  rejoined  Olive,  who  seemed  unac- 
countably absorbed  in  the  perusal  of  her  fashion  paper. 
"  Will  you  not  go  down  and  receive  her  ?  She  is  more 
your  guest  than  mine,  you  know." 

"  I  mean,  my  dear  .  .  .  er  .  .  .  that  is  .  .  .  they 
all  seem  to  have  come.  .  .  ." 

Sir  Baldwin  felt  distinctly  at  a  disadvantage,  and 
knew  that  his  wife  was  laughing  at  him.  She  was 
not  likely  under  the  circumstances  to  help  him  out  of 
a  very  awkward  situation  which  he  certainly  had 
never  foreseen. 

He  had  looked  forward  to  Boadicea's  visit,  but  the 
entire  family,  including  Cousin  Barnaby,  installed  per- 


AN  AGREEABLE  SURPRISE  263 

haps  for  an  indefinite  time  in  a  London  house  was 
more  than  he  had  bargained  for. 

The  well-drilled  footman  now  appeared  on  the  land- 
ing. His  face,  set  on  approved  conventional  lines,  be- 
trayed nothing  of  what  he  thought  of  the  remarkable 
visitors  that  were  trooping  up  the  stairs  at  his  heels. 
It  certainly  betrayed  nothing  of  what  he  would  say 
presently  in  the  servants'  hall  on  that  subject. 

With  scanty  ceremony.  Aunt  Caroline,  who  was 
leading  the  little  party,  pushed  the  solemn  footman 
out  of  her  way.  In  one  hand  she  had  a  bandbox 
which  contained  her  best  bonnet,  and  in  the  other  she 
carried  a  gargantuan  umbrella,  and  a  small  cardboard 
box  on  which  was  displayed  the  legend :  "  Eggs. 
With  care." 

"  Here  we  are,  my  dear  Sir  Baldwin !  "  she  said 
cheerfully.  "  And  right  glad  to  see  something  of 
London.  I  cannot  shake  hands  till  I  have  put  some 
of  these  things  down.  Here,  young  fellow,"  she 
added,  turning  to  the  solemn  footman,  who  stood 
there  in  resplendent  livery,  "  take  these,  and  be  careful 
not  to  drop  this  box;  there  are  three  turkey's  eggs  in 
it." 

She  thrust  umbrella  and  egg-box  into  the  hands  of 
the  highly  indignant  footman,  deposited  her  bandbox 
on  the  floor,  shook  Sir  Baldwin  vigorously  by  the 
hand,  and  with  a  perfectly  self-possessed  "  Come  along, 
Barnaby !  "  she  marched  straight  into  the  drawing- 
room. 

Olive  rose  languidly  to  receive  her,  but  Aunt  Caro- 
line was  always  self-possessed  and  always  at  her  ease. 


264  MEADOWSWEET 

She  was  quite  unconscious  of  the  coolness  of  the  re- 
ception or  of  Sir  Baldwin's  embarrassment. 

"  So  kind  of  Sir  Baldwin  to  ask  us,"  she  said  with 
the  same  persistent  cheerfulness,  after  she  had  depos- 
ited two  well-sounding  kisses  on  Olive's  delicately 
rouged  cheeks. 

She  undid  her  bonnet  strings  and  sat  down  with  an 
obvious  sense  of  satisfaction.  Cousin  Barnaby  had 
entered  in  her  wake,  also  Uncle  Jasper.  The  latter 
had  his  tin  specimen-case  slung  round  his  shoulder,  and 
clung  to  his  butterfly-net  with  an  obvious  sense  of  se- 
curity. He  was  smiling  benignly  on  the  world  in  gen- 
eral, and  his  eyes  had  already  fastened  themselves  on  a 
glass  case  which  adorned  one  of  the  walls,  and  which 
contained  a  fine  stuffed  eagle,  the  product  of  one  of  Sir 
Baldwin's  shooting  expeditions  in  the  north  of  Scot- 
land. 

Cousin  Barnaby,  muffled  up  to  the  eyes,  had  a  rug 
over  one  arm  and  a  travelling  pillow  in  his  hand;  he 
made  somewhat  gauche  efforts  at  greeting  Sir  Baldwin 
and  Lady  Jeffreys  in  a  becoming  manner. 

"  So  you  see,  my  darling  Olive,  here  we  are ! "  said 
Aunt  Caroline  airily,  when  she  was  satisfied  that  her 
little  party  had  all  assembled;  Cousin  Barnaby  and 
Uncle  Jasper  in  the  drawing-room,  Boadicea  talking  to 
Sir  Baldwin,  and  Susan  still  on  the  landing.  "  I  could 
not  allow  the  child  to  travel  alone,  could  I  ?  " 

"  No,  no.  Aunt,  of  course  not,"  assented  Olive,  who 
was  feeling  almost  hysterical  with  an  access  of  rage 
mingling  with  one  of  uncontrollable  laughter.  Really 
the  situation  was  almost  too  funny  to  be  infuriating, 
and  too  infuriating  to  be  genuinely  funny. 


AN  AGREEABLE  SURPRISE  265 

And  Sir  Baldwin  —  the  creator  of  this  stupid,  in- 
sane, idiotic  pHght  into  which  he  had  placed  his  wife  as 
well  as  himself  —  looked  the  picture  of  hopeless  be- 
wilderment. 

It  was  enough  to  send  any  woman,  suffering  already 
from  nerves,  clean  out  of  her  senses. 

"  Your  arrival  is  a  charming  surprise  for  my  birth- 
day," she  said  with  bitter  irony,  which  was  wholly  lost 
on  Aunt  Caroline,  but  not  on  Sir  Baldwin.  ''  I  am 
delighted  to  see  you  .  .  .  and  dear  Uncle  Jasper." 

"  Well,"  said  Aunt  Caroline  complacently,  "  I  could 
not  very  well  allow  your  uncle  to  stay  in  the  house 
alone  .  .  .  and  Susan  such  a  careless  minx  .  .  ." 

"Of  course  not  .  .  .  of  course  not  .  .  .  dear  Uncle 
Jasper  .  .  .  this  is  really  a  surprise.  ...  Is  it  not. 
Sir  Baldwin?  .  .  .  You  could  not  have  given  me  a 
more  delightful  surprise  for  my  birthday  .  .  .  could 
you?" 

"  How  de  do,  Mr.  Hemingford  .  .  .  very  pleased  to 
see  you,"  murmured  Sir  Baldwin.         ' 

"  How  de  do,"  responded  Uncle  Jasper.  "  Er  .  .  . 
er  .  .  .  mayhap  you  could  tell  me  the  way  to  the 
Royal  Society's  museum,  my  dear  Olive  ...  I  have 
heard  that  there  is  a  wonderful  collection  there  of 
British  song  birds.  .  .  ." 

"  Yes,  yes,  Uncle  Jasper,  there  is  .  .  .  and  Sir  Bald- 
win will  take  an  early  opportunity  of  taking  you  there, 
will  you  not.  Sir  Baldwin?  " 

"Of  course,  of  course !  " 

"  And  fancy  Cousin  Barnaby  making  up  his  mind  to 
pay  us  townsfolk  a  visit,"  said  Olive,  who  was  ap- 
proaching nearer  and  nearer  to  the  verge  of  hysteria, 


266  MEADOWSWEET 

and  talked  glibly  and  gaily  in  a  very  loud,  high-pitched 
voice. 

Aunt  Caroline,  a  little  shame-faced,  was  smoothing 
out  her  bonnet  strings. 

"  I  could  not  ver^  well  allow  Barnaby  to  .  .  .  er 
.  .  ."  she  muttered,  "  to  .  .  ." 

"  I  could  not  allow  you,  Caroline,  to  leave  me  alone 
in  the  house,"  rejoined  Mr.  Crabtree,  settling  himself 
down  placidly  in  a  corner  of  the  sofa;  *'  you  are  well 
aware  of  the  fact  that  I  could  not  remain  unattended 
in  an  empty  house.  The  matter  was  fully  discussed 
before  we  left." 

"  Besides  which,"  said  Olive,  "  my  birthday  surprise 
would  not  have  been  complete  without  you,  dear  Cousin 
Barnaby.  And  Sir  Baldwin  would  have  been  so  dis- 
appointed if  you  had  not  come.  Would  you  not,  Sir 
Baldwin?" 

"Certainly,  certainly!"  murmured  the  unfortunate 
man. 

"  Lis  liten  generat,"  said  Uncle  Jasper  calmly. 

"  Jasper  even  brought  his  abominable  Latin  away 
with  him,"  said  Mr.  Crabtree,  "  and  we  found  that 
there  would  be  less  inconvenience  for  me  to  undertake 
this  tiresome  journey  than  to  be  left  alone  in  company 
with  Caroline's  clucking  hens." 

"  But  what  about  Susan  ?  "  asked  Olive. 

"  Oh,  we  brought  her  along  with  us,"  replied  Aunt 
Caroline. 

"  She  had  to  see  after  my  bed  warmer,"  said  Cousin 
Barnaby  in  tone  of  stern  reminder. 

"Of  course  she  has,  I  had  nearly  forgotten.  And 
also  she  had  to  complete  the  birthday  surprise!     It  is 


AN  AGREEABLE  SURPRISE  2^-] 

all  too  delightful,  and  I  don't  know  how  to  thank  Sir 
Baldwin  for  his  kindness  in  thinking  out  all  the  details 
of  this  delightful  visit." 

"But  where  is  Boadicea?"  interposed  Aunt  Caro- 
line. 

"  On  the  landing.  Sitting  on  her  boxes !  "  rejoined 
Mr.  Crabtree  airily. 

Everyone  had  forgotten  little  Boadicea.  Sir  Bald- 
win had  greeted  her  kindly,  but  she  did  not  follow  Aunt 
Caroline  into  the  drawing-room.  She  had  just  caught 
sight  of  her  sister  —  beautiful  as  usual,  exquisitely 
dressed,  angered  at  this  invasion  of  her  fashionable 
house  by  this  set  of  country  bumpkins,  but  otherwise 
perfectly  serene  —  and  the  sight  of  Olive's  face,  of 
those  lips  that  had  lied,  those  eyes  that  had  so  cruelly 
deceived,  brought  back  in  a  moment  all  the  acuteness  of 
the  heart  ache  which  had  become  almost  numb  in  the 
past  few  months. 

Boadicea  would  at  that  moment  have  given  all  she 
had  in  the  world  to  be  allowed  to  run  away  from  here 
at  once,  to  go  back  to  lonely  sea-girt  Thanet,  to  the  old 
house  and  the  orchard,  which  were  so  full  of  memories, 
but  also  so  full  of  peace.  She  could  not  then  have 
come  forward  to  greet  her  sister,  to  kiss  her  again,  to 
lie  by  word  and  look  again  and  again. 

Nor  was  Olive  any  more  eager  to  greet  her.  She 
had  caught  sight  of  the  little  face,  so  pale  now,  so  dif- 
ferent to  the  childish  face  of  a  year  ago.  It  looked 
almost  wan  and  quite  tiny,  with  bloodless  cheeks  and 
eyes  that  seemed  unnaturally  large.  After  that  quick 
exchange  of  looks  the  sisters,  by  tacit  consent,  turned 
away  one  from  the  other.     On  the  pretext  of  giving  a 


268  MEADOWSWEET 

few  final  directions  to  Susan,  Boadicea  went  back  on  to 
the  landing,  and  for  the  moment,  luckily,  both  Sir 
Baldwin  and  Olive  were  far  too  deeply  absorbed  in  a 
ridiculous  situation  to  pay  much  attention  to  her. 

She  was  very  tired,  so  she  sat  down  quietly  on  one  of 
Aunt  Caroline's  boxes,  and  waited  patiently  for  the 
time  when  some  degree  of  silence  would  follow  the 
present  babel  of  talk  and  of  hysterical  laughter,  and  in 
the  meanwhile  screwing  up  her  courage  for  the  ordeal 
of  meeting  Olive  —  as  she  would  have  to  do  presently 
—  just  as  if  nothing  had  happened  either  to  wreck  her 
life  or  to  destroy  her  illusions'. 

In  a  moment  of  impulse  she  had  decided  to  come  to 
London  because  Sir  Baldwin  had  written  to  say  that 
Olive  was  ill,  and  at  that  thought  all  the  old  fondness 
for  the  beautiful  sister  had  revived.  She  had  come  feel- 
ing that  Olive  was  ill  and  had  need  of  her.  If  Olive  had 
been  really  ill,  Boadicea  could  have  found  it  in  her  heart 
to  forget  and  to  forgive  everything ;  but  Olive  was  not 
ill  and  had  no  need  of  a  sister's  sympathy,  and  in  her 
eyes  there  was  just  that  look  of  hard  selfishness  which 
Boadicea  had  discovered  in  them  on  that  one  hideous 
afternoon  when  all  the  world  suddenly  became  black 
and  ugly  with  the  stains  of  sin  and  deceit. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

AN   AWKWARD   SITUATION 

There  was.  grave  consultation  with  Thompson,  the 
majordomo  of  Lady  Jeffreys's  household,  as  to  how 
the  unexpected  guests  were  to  be  housed. 

Though  the  mansion  was  fairly  large  and  roomy, 
there  was  no  superabundance  of  space  in  it,  and,  as  in 
most  London  houses,  there  were  but  few  spare  bed- 
rooms. Thompson  gravely  shook  his  head  when  her 
ladyship  asked  him  what  rooms  could  be  placed  at  the 
disposal  of  Sir  Baldwin's  guests. 

"  If  you  please,  my  lady,"  he  said,  "  there  is  only  the 
blue  room  free  now.  We  thought  that  Miss  Ald- 
marshe  alone  was  coming." 

''Only  the  blue  room?" 

"  That's  all,  my  lady.  Miss  Aldmarshe  can  then 
have  the  small  green  room  on  the  east  side." 

"  And,"  interposed  Mr.  Crabtree  quietly,  "  Caro- 
line and  Jasper  can  go  to  an  adjacent  hotel." 

"To  an  hotel,"  exclaimed  Aunt  Caroline,  a  little 
horrified  at  the  proposal. 

"  Yes,"  interposed  Uncle  Jasper,  with  alacrity, 
"  somewhere  near  the  Royal  Society's  museum.  .  .  ." 

"  Shall  I  tell  Cutler,  my  lady,  that  that  arrangement 
will  suit?"  asked  Thompson,  who  was  showing  a 
lofty  contempt  for  these  savages  from  the  country. 

"  Yes.     Send  her  down  here  to  me." 

269 


270  MEADOWSWEET 

Thompson  retired  and  Mr.  Crabtree  concluded  with 
perfect  complacency: 

"  The  blue  room  will  do  very  well  for  me  .  .  . 
though  I  must  tell  you,  Olive,  that  I  hate  blue.  .  .  ." 

"  But,  Cousin  Barnaby,"  protested  Olive,  "  I  have 
only  the  one  room,  and  Aunt  Caroline  .  .  ." 

"  She  can  sleep  at  the  hotel  with  Jasper,  of 
course  .  .  .  and  I  can  make  the  blue  room  do  .  .  ." 

"  But  really,  Cousin  Barnaby  .  .  ." 

"  No  matter,"  he  interposed  loftily.  "  I  can  make 
it  do.  Don't  apologise.  ...  I  hate  blue,  but  I  can 
make  it  do." 

Cutler,  the  housekeeper,  In  splendid  black  silk  and 
lace-edged  apron,  was  already  at  the  door  ready  to 
confirm  Thompson's  assertion  that  no  other  room  but 
the  blue  one  would  be  available,  and  Miss  Aldmarshe 
would  then  have  to  have  the  smaller  green  room  on 
the  east  side. 

Aunt  Caroline  thought  that  the  majestic  house- 
keeper looked  a  pert  minx,  and  tried  to  tell  her  so  by 
a  withering  look.  Mr.  Crabtree  had  risen  from  the 
sofa.  Totally  una  wed  by  the  glance  of  contemptuous 
astonishment  which  Cutler  threw  at  him,  he  stalked  up 
to  her,  rug  and  travelling-pillow  in  hand.  Without 
more  ado  he  thrust  these  things  into  the  indignant 
housekeeper's  arms. 

"  Here,  woman,  take  my  things  into  the  blue  room," 
he  said. 

Poor  Cutler  nearly  dropped  the  things  on  to  the 
floor.  She  had  never  been  so  insulted  in  all  her  life. 
Nothing  but  respect  for  her  master  and  mistress  pre- 
vented her  making  a  scene  then  and  there,  and  in  her 


AN  AWKWARD  SITUATION  271 

mind  she  determined  that  if  these  people  stayed  more 
than  one  night  in  the  house  she  herself  would  promptly 
give  a  month's  notice.  For  the  moment  she  vainly 
looked  to  Sir  Baldwin  —  whom  she  had  served  faith- 
fully for  twenty  years  —  for  support  against  this  in- 
sult. 

"  Mr.  Crabtree,"  said  Sir  Baldwin,  somewhat  fee- 
bly, for,  poor  man,  his  spirits  had  been  somewhat 
cowed  during  the  past  half  hour — "Mr.  Crabtree,  I 
really  must  ask  you  to  .  .  ." 

"  Don't  apologise,  don't  apologise !  "  broke  in  Cousin 
Barnaby  in  his  usual  summary  manner.  "  I  hate  blue, 
but  I  can  stand  it  for  a  few  days.  Let  your  woman 
show  the  vv^ay.     Get  along,  girl,  can't  you  ?  " 

"What  am  I  to  do,  my  lady?"  asked  Cutler,  who 
was  on  the  point  of  bursting  into  tears. 

"  Show  me  the  way  to  the  blue  room,  and  don't 
argue,"  concluded  Mr.  Crabtree. 

It  is  a  very  curious  fact  in  life  that  very  selfish  and 
very  self-assertive  persons  invariably  succeed  in  im- 
posing their  wishes  on  others.  In  this  case  Mr.  Crab- 
tree had  it  entirely  his  own  way.  Sir  Baldwin  felt  far 
too  bewildered  and  far  too  sheepish  to  do  his  duty  as 
host  or  master  of  the  house.  Olive,  on  the  other 
hand,  was  much  too  resentful  and  really  not  in  a  nor- 
mal state  of  mind  to  attend  to  the  most  elementary 
duties  of  hospitality  towards  her  uncle  and  aunt. 

Thus  the  perplexed  and  irate  housekeeper,  finding 
no  support  from  her  master  or  mistress,  was  obliged 
to  obey  that  muffled-up  scarecrow  who  insulted  her 
and  ordered  her  about  as  if  she  had  been  a  kitchen- 
maid. 


272  MEADOWSWEET 

Wrapping  herself  up  in  a  perfect  mantle  of  offended 
dignity,  she  threw  one  withering  glance  on  Barnaby 
Crabtree,  and  asked  him,  with  ironical  deference, 
kindly  to  follow  her  up  the  stairs.  This  he  did  quite 
contentedly,  whilst  Aunt  Caroline  said  blandly : 

"  Cousin  Barnaby  insisted  on  coming,  you  know, 
my  dear  Olive;  I  do  hope  that  it  is  not  inconvenient?  " 

"  Oh,  not  at  all  —  not  at  all,  my  dear  Aunt !  We 
are  charmed,  I  assure  you.  .  .  .  Are  we  not.  Sir  Bald- 
win?" 

"  Delighted.     Delighted,  of  course!  " 

"  But,"  rejoined  Olive,  with  a  laugh,  "  unless  you 
and  Uncle  Jasper  will  sleep  on  the  drawing-room  floor 
I  am  afraid  that  you  will  have  to  go  to  an  hotel." 

"  Somewhere  near  the  Royal  Society's  museum," 
murmured  Uncle  Jasper  mildly. 

"At  any  rate,  we'll  see  to  that  later  on.  For  the 
moment  we  must  have  some  luncheon.  The  bell  will 
ring  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  Come  to  my  room, 
Aunt,  will  you?  Sir  Baldwin,  will  you  see  to  Uncle 
Jasper  in  the  meanwhile  ?  " 

"  And  that  poor  child !  "  exclaimed  Aunt  Caroline, 
suddenly  recollecting  Boadicea. 

"  She  is  still  sitting  on  her  boxes,  I  suppose." 

But  Boadicea  was  no  longer  on  the  landing.  She 
and  Susan  had  found  their  way  upstairs.  They  had 
enlisted  the  housekeeper's  sympathy,  and  had  been 
shown  into  their  rooms. 

The  meeting  between  the  two  sisters  had  again  been 
postponed,  but,  of  course,  it  could  not  be  put  off  in- 
definitely. Olive  frowned  with  impatience  at  herself 
for  being  so  strangely  disturbed  in  her  younger  sis- 


AN  AWKWARD  SITUATION  273 

ter's  presence.  She  deposited  Aunt  Caroline  in  front 
of  a  basin  full  of  hot  water  in  her  own  room,  and  then 
deliberately  went  upstairs  to  the  small  green  room  on 
the  east  side  which  Boadicea  would  have  to  occupy,  if 
she  stayed  in  St.  James's-street. 

She  knocked  at  the  door  and  went  in.  Boadicea 
was  standing  beside  her  boxes  looking  listless  and 
apathetic.  She  made  no  movement  to  embrace  her 
sister,  and  Olive  felt  strangely  ill  at  ease  at  sight  of 
the  thin,  pinched  little  face  so  different  to  the  apple- 
cheeked,  rosy  one  of  awhile  ago. 

Not  that  there  was  any  feeling  of  remorse  or  of 
shame  in  her.  She  was  not  in  the  least  ashamed  of 
what  she  had  done,  either  of  the  lie  which  she  had  told 
or  of  what  that  lie  implied  with  regard  to  herself;  nor 
was  she  remorseful,  for  she  had  no  conception  of  the 
gravity  of  her  action.  Being  wholly  incapable  of 
deep  and  passionate  attachment,  she  did  not  believe  in 
the  existence  of  it.  She  thought  that  Boadicea  —  at 
most  —  had  had  just  the  same  passing  fancy  for  Lieu- 
tenant Carrington  as  she  had  had  herself,  that  her 
vanity  had  been  agreeably  tickled  by  the  young  man's 
attentions,  and  that  a  sense  of  pique  and  of  disap- 
pointment was  all  that  the  young  girl  could  possibly 
feel  at  the  present  moment. 

Not  anything  to  make  a  fuss  over,  surely. 

She  thought  that  the  child  was  exhibiting  a  sulki- 
ness  of  temper  altogether  unwarranted  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, and  it  was  almost  with  a  feeling  of  ag- 
grieved dignity  that  she  said : 

"  Good  gracious,  child,  are  you  so  tired  as  all  that  ? 
You  don't  seem  overjoyed  at  seeing  me." 


274  MEADOWSWEET 

She  made  pretence  to  kiss  Boadicea  with  some  show 
of  affection,  and  immediately  afterwards  began  to  talk 
glibly  of  the  present  ridiculous  situation. 

"  It  is  quite  intolerable.  You  see  that  for  yourself, 
don't  you,  little  one?"  she  said.  "I  am,  of  course, 
delighted  to  have  you,  but  what  in  the  world  shall  I  do 
with  Aunt  and  Uncle,  and  that  odious  Crabtree?  I 
haven't  the  room  in  this  house,  and  Barnaby  will  up- 
set all  my  servants." 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  Olive,"  said  Boadicea,  and  for 
the  first  time  for  many  months  a  twinkle  of  amuse- 
ment crept  into  her  large,  purple-circled  eyes.  "  I  did 
what  I  could  to  stop  the  crowd  of  us  coming  all  to- 
gether. But  Aunt  made  all  the  arrangements.  ...  I 
was  not  allowed  to  speak  a  word." 

"  Aunt  is  really  in  her  dotage.  As  for  Uncle,  he  has 
no  business  to  be  let  loose  in  London  like  that." 

"  Aunt  will  do  her  best  to  look  after  him." 

"  They'll  both  come  to  grief  in  London,"  was 
Olive's  decided  pronouncement.  "And  I  am  obliged 
to  send  them  to  an  hotel  where  Aunt  will  quarrel  with 
the  chambermaid  and  the  head  waiter  and  set  the  man- 
agement by  the  ears.  As  for  paying  her  bill  without 
a  terrible  row  with  the  cashier,  she  is  simply  incapable 
of  it.  Little  one,  I  am  very,  very  sorry,  but  much  as 
I  would  like  to  have  you  here  with  me,  I  honestly 
think  that  it  is  your  duty  to  go  to  the  hotel  with  them." 

"Yes,  Olive?" 

"  You  will  have  to  come  back  to  me  later  on  in  the 
season;  and  then  I  must  see  that  you  come  alone. 
Your  visit  this  time  has  been  spoilt,  anyhow ;  and  I  do 


AN  AWKWARD  SITUATION  275 

think  that  it  is  not  safe  for  Aunt  and  Uncle  to  be  alone 
in  a  London  hotel." 

Boadicea  cared  so  little  as  to  where  she  went  or 
what  she  did,  that  she  acquiesced  readily  in  her  sister's 
wish. 

, "  I  won't  unpack  my  box,  then,"  she  said  simply, 
"  and  after  luncheon  we  can  all  go  to  some  hotel  near 
the  Museum,  as  Uncle  Jasper  wishes." 

"  Yes,  dear.  And  I  wouldn't  stay  in  London  longer 
than  a  few  days.  You  could  easily  make  Aunt  under- 
stand that  London  does  not  agree  with  you.  And 
then,  you  see,  little  one,  the  sooner  you  and  the  family 
go  back  this  time,  the  sooner  you  can  return  to  me, 
say,  at  the  beginning  of  July,  when  the  season  is  still 
at  its  height,  and  we  can  spend  a  nice  time  together." 

Boadicea  could  not  help  smiling,  in  spite  of  the  pain 
which  Olive  was  causing  her  by  her  shallow  pretences. 
Oh,  how  well  she  had  learnt  to  read  in  her  sister's 
heart!  How  clearly  she  saw  the  deceit  that  pierced 
through  this  show  of  affection!  She  knew  that  Olive 
no  more  meant  what  she  said,  no  more  meant  her  to 
come  back  to  London  this  year  or  any  other  year  than 
she  had  done  in  the  years  that  were  past. 

"  You  need  not  be  afraid,  Olive,"  she  said,  gently. 
"  I  won't  stay  in  London  a  day  longer  than  I  can 
help." 

"  My  dear  child  .  .  ." 

"No,  no,  dear!  Never  mind  about  trying  to  pro- 
test what  you  don't  feel.  It's  no  good,  Olive,  things 
will  never  be  quite  the  same  between  us  as  they  were 
in  the  past." 

"  You  are  such  a  country  ninny,  child.     You  judge 


2y(y  MEADOWSWEET 

me  harshly  because  of  what  I  told  you.  Why,  every 
woman  in  London  —  if  she  be  good-looking  —  has 
more  than  one  lover.  Let  me  tell  you  that,  and  no 
one  thinks  any  the  worse  of  her  for  that." 

"  I  am  not  judging  you,  Olive,  or  thinking  harshly 
of  you.  I  only  judge  myself  for  having  been  silly  and 
vanity-stricken.  But  don't  let  us  talk  about  all  that. 
It  is  all  over  and  done  with." 

"  That  is  a  very  sensible  way  of  looking  at  it,  child. 
It  is  all  over  and  done  with,  as  you  say.  Lieutenant 
Carrington  has  forgotten  all  about  you  by  now,  I  dare 
say,  and  you  are  very  wise  to  forget  all  about  him. 
And  you  are  sure  you  don't  mind  going  to  an  hotel 
with  Aunt  and  Uncle  ?  " 

*'  Of  course  I  don't  mind." 

"  And  after  to-day  you  must  all  come  over  for 
meals.  To-night,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  I  shall  not  be 
able  to  entertain  you.  I  have  a  dinner-party  first  and 
go  to  a  rout  afterwards.  You  wouldii't  care  for 
either,  would  you,  dear?" 

"  No,  Olive,  I  should  not." 

"  Then  perhaps  we  can  arrange  for  you  to  leave 
London  to-morrow.  Sir  Baldwin  has  any  number  of 
horses  in  town.  I  am  sure  that  he  will  readily  send 
you  back  in  his  coach." 

"  It  would  be  very  kind  of  him." 

"  And,  really,  dear,  I  ask  you,  in  all  fairness,  what 
could  I  do  with  that  odious  Crabtree  for  more  than 
one  day?  " 

The  luncheon-bell  sounded  now  for  the  second  time. 
Boadicea  had  already  smoothed  her  hair  and  washed 
her  face  and  hands.     She  was  quite  ready  to  go  down- 


AN  AWKWARD  SITUATION  ^-jy 

stairs  with  her  sister.  On  the  whole  she  was  not 
greatly  hurt  at  her  sister's  obvious  desire  to  be  rid  of 
her  again  as  quickly  as  possible.  Was  she  herself  not 
conscious  of  a  strong  desire  to  put  mile  upon  mile  of 
road  between  her  and  Olive  ? 

She  had  only  come  because  she  believed  that  Olive 
was  ill.  Now  she  realised  how  impossible  it  would  be 
for  her  to  be  constantly  with  her  sister  day  after  day, 
in  the  same  house,  at  meals,  at  all  times. 

But  Olive  was  triumphant.  Her  strategy  had  suc- 
ceeded beyond  her  fondest  hopes.  Sir  Baldwin's 
clumsy  plan  had  been  most  cleverly  outwitted,  and  if 
Lieutenant  Carrington,  acting  upon  the  hint  dropped 
to  him,  did  turn  up  at  sunset  this  evening,  it  would  be- 
come a  very  easy  matter  indeed  to  persuade  him  that 
Boadicea  had  fled  because  of  his  approach.  In  fact, 
chance  had  been  so  kind  that  she  had  arranged  the 
situation  altogether  for  the  best. 

Boadicea  in  London  and  to  all  appearances  refusing 
to  meet  Lieutenant  Carrington,  was  a  far  more  satis- 
factory asset  in  Olive's  schemes  than  she  had  been  in 
distant  Thanet. 

Olive  was  quite  longing  for  Jack's  visit  this  even- 
ing; there  would  be  no  need  for  him  now  to  go  to  the 
China  seas.  He  could  accept  the  appointment  at  the 
Admiralty  and  remain  in  London,  worshipping  com- 
fortably at  the  feet  of  beautiful  Lady  Jeffreys,  for  she 
would  make  him  understand  how  thoroughly  at  an 
end  was  that  silly  romance,  which  —  surely  against  his 
own  will  and  judgment  —  had  kept  him  bound  in  a 
cold  spirit  of  chivalry  to  the  little  savage  whom  he 
had  met  in  Thanet. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

AN   HONEST   MAN 

After  luncheon  Mr.  Crabtree  retired  to  the  blue 
room  for  rest  until  tea-time.  He  hated  blue,  but  pro- 
fessed himself  willing  to  sacrifice  his  prejudices  for 
the  sake  of  peace,  which  he  hoped  to  find  in  London. 

It  was  arranged  that  Sir  Baldwin's  barouche  would 
conduct  the  rest  of  the  Thanet  party  to  a  good  hotel 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Royal  Society's  museum, 
which  was  situated  at  some  little  distance  from  St. 
James's-street,  and  Olive  —  an  irreproachably  charm- 
ing hostess  now,  full  of  spirits  and  brimming  over 
with  smiles  —  was  dispensing  coffee  in  the  drawing- 
room  whilst  waiting  for  the  advent  of  the  barouche. 

No  wonder  that  she  was  in  a  good  humour.  In 
less  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  from  now  Boadicea 
would  be  safely  out  of  the  house,  after  which  the 
manoeuvring  of  keeping  her  and  Lieutenant  Jack  apart 
for  a  day  or  two  longer  would  become  a  very  simple 
matter.  No  one  had  mentioned  Lieutenant  Carring- 
ton  at  luncheon,  and  now  Aunt  Caroline  and  Boadicea 
had  their  bonnets  on,  ready  to  start,  and  if  all  went 
well  the  whole  party  would  have  left  London  in  less 
than  forty-eight  hours  from  now. 

Sir  Baldwin  was  making  vigorous  efforts  to  enter- 
tain Uncle  Jasper  with  travellers'  tales.     Aunt  Caro- 

278 


AN  HONEST  MAN  279 

line  talked  volubly  and  incessantly  whilst  stirring  her 
coffee. 

She  talked  of  Susan's  misdeeds,  of  jams  and  of 
pickles,  of  Topcoat's  rheumatism,  and  Mr.  Friday,  the 
Minster  grocer's  bankruptcy.  Finally,  she  talked  of 
Boadicea's  lack  of  appetite,  which  had  sat  heavily  on 
her  own  mind  of  late. 

"  But  now,"  she  said  cheerfully,  "  that  she  will  be 
near  you,  Olive,  I  dare  say  that  the  roses  will  soon 
return  to  her  cheeks.  Not  that  I  believe  in  London 
air,  mind  you,  but  I  have  done  my  best  with  her,  giv- 
ing her  dandelion  tea  and  liquorice,  before  every  meal, 
and  no  woman  can  do  more." 

"  But  I  am  very  well.  Aunt,"  said  Boadicea  in  that 
listless  way  which  seemed  to  have  become  habit- 
ual with  her.  "  I  am  sure  that  I  have  no  need  of 
physic." 

Whereupon  Sir  Baldwin  broke  off  in  his  conversa- 
tion with  Uncle  Jasper,  and  said  tartly,  his  temper  be- 
ing none  of  the  best  by  now: 

"  The  physic  the  chit  wants  is  a  contented  mind." 

"  Good,  Sir  Baldwin !  "  protested  Aunt  Caroline. 

"  Aye,  you'll  have  to  excuse  me,  ma'am !  "  he  con- 
tinued, speaking  loudly  and  bluntly.  "  I  had  intended 
speaking  straight  words  to  the  minx  when  she  came. 
It  is  time,  I  say,  that  heartless  coquettes  heard  the 
truth  spoken  openly  to  them  by  honest  men." 

"  Pay  no  attention,  Aunt,"  interposed  Olive  hastily, 
for  she  did  not  like  the  turn  which  the  conversation 
had  taken  so  unexpectedly.  "  Sir  Baldwin  is  aiming 
a  shaft  at  me:  a  pleasing  practice  to  which  he  is  often 
addicted." 


28o  MEADOWSWEET 

Then  she  turned  with  a  sad  and  patient  smile  to  her 
sister. 

"  Dear  child,"  she  said,  sighing  prettily,  "  I  hope  for 
your  sake  that  you  will  never  be  plagued  with  a  jealous 
husband." 

But  Boadicea  replied  very  earnestly,  and  turning 
large,  sad  eyes  on  Sir  Baldwin : 

"  No,  no,  Olive !  Sir  Baldwin  is  quite  right  in  what 
he  says,  though  of  course  he  does  not  understand." 

"Understand?"  exclaimed  Sir  Baldwin  hotly. 
"  What  is  there  to  understand,  if  you  please,  save  that 
like  a  wanton  chit  you  amused  yourself  by  toying  with 
the  love  of  an  honest  man,  and  now  go  about  your 
business  smiling  and  contented  whilst  he  is  breaking 
his  heart?  " 

"  Breaking  his  heart  ?  "  she  protested,  with  a  con- 
temptuous shrug  of  the  shoulders.  "  Oh,  as  to 
that  .  .  ." 

"  Well,  you  know,  child,"  broke  in  Aunt  Caroline, 
with  her  usual  complacency,  "  I  have  always  told  you 
that  you  did  not  treat  Lieutenant  Carrington  quite 
fairly." 

"  For  gracious'  sake,"  cried  Olive,  with  angry  im- 
patience, "  do  not  revive  that  old,  forgotten  story  now, 
Aunt.  It  is  all  past  and  forgotten.  It  certainly  did 
not  redound  to  anybody's  credit,  so  I  really  do  not  see 
why  you  should  wish  to  dig  it  up  again." 

"  The  story  is  not  past  and  forgotten,"  protested  Sir 
Baldwin  vigorously. 

"  At  any  rate,  it  never  concerned  you.  Sir  Baldwin." 

"  A  story  of  that  type  concerns  every  honest  man." 

"  There's  too  much  talk  of  honest  men,  it  seems  to 


AN  HONEST  MAN  281 

me,"  concluded  Olive,  trying  to  conceal  beneath  the 
appearance  of  indifference,  the  fear  and  anger  which 
she  now  felt.  "  Good  wine  needs  no  bush.  More- 
over, the  barouche  is  at  the  door." 

"  It  can  wait,"  rejoined  Sir  Baldwin  curtly ;  "  at  any 
rate,  until  I,  too,  have  told  Miss  Boadicea  that  she 
did  not  treat  Lieutenant  Carrington  fairly.  Fairly !  " 
he  reiterated,  with  a  suppressed  oath,  "  Heaven's 
sakes  alive,  girl !  Is  it  fair  to  send  such  heartless  mes- 
sages to  a  man  so  sorely  stricken  with  grief  already?  " 

"  Sir  Baldwin,"  said  Olive  in  a  harsh,  high-pitched 
voice,  "  I  must  insist  on  your  ceasing  to  interfere  in 
my  sister's  affairs." 

But  Boadicea,  very  bewildered,  had  frowned  in 
obvious  puzzlement,  and  was  murmuring : 

"  Messages  ?     What  messages  ?  " 

She  gazed  inquiringly  from  her  sister  to  Sir  Bald- 
win, and  then  back  to  her  sister  again.  Olive  was 
flushed  and  looked  more  and  more  angered,  her  eyes, 
too,  appeared  restless,  avoiding  Boadicea's  direct  gaze. 
Something  of  the  truth  —  a  mere  glimmer,  of  course 
—  struggled  to  the  young  girl's  comprehension. 
There  was  no  mistaking  Olive's  furtive  looks,  and  Sir 
Baldwin  seemed  very  sure  of  his  assertion. 

"  In  your  letters  to  your  sister,"  he  said  hotly,  "  your 
messages  were  positively  heartless.  How  many  times 
did  you  send  Carrington  a  message,  pray,  saying  that 
you  never  wish  to  look  on  his  face  again  ?  " 

"  Poor  young  man,"  murmured  Aunt  Caroline, 
"  M'hy  did  you  say  that,  child?  " 

"  I  .  .  .  don't  know  .  .  ."  said  Boadicea  slowly, 
for  she  was  beginning  to  understand  that  some  kind 


282  MEADOWSWEET 

of  treachery  had  been  at  work.  What  it  was  or  who 
had  been  guilty,  and  for  what  object  she  could  not  at 
present  conceive,  but  Olive  looked  frightened,  as  she 
had  done  on  that  memorable  evening  a  year  ago,  and 
Boadicea  now,  as  then,  was  far  too  loyal  to  give  her 
away. 

"  You  don't  know  ?  "  queried  Sir  Baldwin. 

"Sir  Baldwin,"  protested  Olive,  "the  barouche  is 
at  the  door.     This  is  not  the  time  .  .  ." 

But  Sir  Baldwin  once  launched  on  the  subject  which 
he  had  so  much  at  heart,  was  not  in  a  humour  to  be 
interrupted.  He  turned  to  Boadicea  and  once  more 
demanded  sternly : 

"You  don't  know?" 

"  I  had  forgotten,"  she  replied  meekly. 

"  Forgotten,  have  you  ?  "  he  retorted.  "  Lord  bless 
my  soul,  girl,  have  you  no  heart,  no  feeling,  no  honest 
sentiment  in  you  ?  And  you  a  mere  child,  and  already 
so  versed  in  the  perverse  arts  of  wanton  coquettes !  " 

"  Sir  Baldwin  ..."  cried  Olive. 

"  Let  me  talk  to  her,  I  tell  you.  I  must  talk  to  her, 
and  she  has  got  to  listen.  It  is  time  someone  spoke  a 
brave  mind  to  her.  You,  Miss  Boadicea,  have  broken 
an  honest  man's  heart,  let  me  tell  you  that.  You  have 
ruined  his  hopes  and  blighted  his  career.  He  is  in 
London  at  the  present  moment  looking  the  very  wreck 
of  his  former  self,  old  before  his  time,  sober  in  mien, 
pale  and  gnawed  by  fever.  He  had  to  be  invalided 
home  from  Malta.  He,  a  young  man,  not  eight-and- 
twenty,  who  should  enjoy  the  best  of  healths.  All 
that  is  your  work,  let  me  tell  you.  Yours,  and  you 
don't  seem  to  care !     You  calmly  say  that  you  never 


AN  HONEST  MAN  283 

wish  to  see  his  face  again.  Well,  you  won't,  for  he 
will  be  underground  before  you  have  time  to  repent  of 
your  heartlessness.  Next  week  he  sails  for  the  China 
seas,  far  away  from  home,  from  kindred,  and  from 
friends.  In  his  present  state  of  apathy  and  feeble 
health,  I  doubt  if  he  will  ever  come  back  from  there. 
Shame  on  you,  child,  I  say  —  shame  on  you!  If  you 
have  no  pity  on  a  man  whose  life  you  have  ruined,  at 
least  you  must  have  shame  for  your  unwarrantable 
conduct.  What  harm  had  he  done  you?  What  sin 
had  he  committed  ?  And  now,  when  a  poor,  innocent 
man's  heart  is  broken  by  your  indifference  and  your 
cruelty,  you  stand  calmly  here  and  say  stolidly,  *  I  do 
not  know  —  I  had  forgotten ! '  Shame,  I  say  — 
shame ! " 

Sir  Baldwin  Jeffreys  had  worked  himself  up  into  a 
violent  state  of  anger  —  a  state  which  rendered  him 
unusually  persuasive  and  eloquent.  Olive  had  once  or 
twice  during  his  loudly-spoken  tirade  endeavoured  to 
stop  his  flow  of  eloquence,  but  in  vain.  He  was  just 
letting  himself  go.  He  had  in  many  ways  suffered  as 
much  as  the  man  whose  cause  he  was  pleading.  He, 
too,  had  been  treated  with  cruel  indifference,  mocked 
at,  ignored,  deeply  wronged,  and  it  was  his  own  griev- 
ances so  long  held  secret  in  his  heart  that  gushed  forth 
now  clothed  in  vigorous  words. 

Olive  had  become  pale  to  the  lips.  She  would  —  if 
she  could  then  have  done  it  —  have  annihilated  her 
meddlesome  husband,  with  her  looks  of  anger  border- 
ing on  absolute  hatred.  The  crisis,  which  she  had 
really  hoped  would  now  be  avoided,  was  being  precipi- 
tated by  what  she  termed  Sir  Baldwin's  impudent  in- 


284  MEADOWSWEET 

terference.  An  explanation  with  Boadicea  would 
now,  she  feared,  be  inevitable,  and  what  the  outcome 
of  that  would  be  she  hardly  dared  to  guess. 

"  'Twas  well  said,  Sir  Baldwin,"  said  Aunt  Caro- 
line, with  her  usual  cheerful  complacency.  "  I've  been 
much  too  weak  all  this  time  past,  else  I  would  have 
given  her  a  good  straight  talk  myself." 

"  I  thank  you  for  what  you  have  said,  Sir  Baldwin," 
said  Boadicea  coldly.  "  But  unfortunately  what  is 
done  cannot  now  be  undone." 

"  It  can  be  mended,  at  any  rate,"  he  retorted. 

"How?" 

"  You  talk  it  over  with  your  sister.  She  under- 
stands young  men  and  their  ways.  She'll  be  of  good 
counsel  to  you,  eh,  Olive?" 

"  Yes,  yes,  of  course.  I'll  talk  it  all  over  with 
Boadicea  some  time,"  said  Olive  impatiently;  "but 
surely  not  now  when  the  barouche  is  at  the  door. 
Unless  they  go  soon  to  seek  for  rooms,  every  decent 
hotel  will  be  closed  against  them.  Hotel-keepers  have 
no  liking  for  travellers  who  arrive  too  late." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Aunt  Caroline,  "  let  us  go  now, 
Sir  Baldwin,  we  may  have  to  visit  several  hotels  be- 
fore we  find  suitable  rooms.  I  must  be  on  the  south 
side,  you  know,  because  of  my  asthma." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  assented  Sir  Baldwin,  "  I  will  accom- 
pany you,  ma'am,  if  you  will  allow  me,  on  your  tour 
of  inspection.  Our  desire  would  have  been  to  enter- 
tain you  here,  you  know,  only  that  Mr.  Crabtree  has 
unfortunately  interfered  with  that  pleasant  arrange- 
ment." 

"  He  would  come,  dear  Sir  Baldwin,  though  I  tried 


AN  HONEST  MAN  285 

to  persuade  him  to  return  to  his  sister's,  poor  dear, 
who  usually  looks  after  him,  and  who  is  glad,  I  dare 
swear,  to  be  rid  of  him  for  a  while.  However,  he 
simply  insisted  on  coming  with  us.  But  never  you 
worry  about  it.  Sir  Baldwin,  your  uncle  and  I  will  do 
very  well  in  lodgings,  now  that  Boadicea  has  also  de- 
cided on  being  with  us.  Eh,  Jasper?  Do  set  Sir 
Baldwin's  mind  at  ease,  and  tell  him  that  we  shall  do 
very  well  in  lodgings." 

Thus  roused  from  the  perusal  of  a  book  which  he 
had  surreptitiously  concealed  in  his  pocket  at  the  last 
moment  when  leaving  home,  Uncle  Jasper  assented 
meekly : 

"  Somewhere  near  the  Royal  Society's  museum," 
he  said. 

"  We'll  find  something  close  by,  at  any  rate,"  con- 
cluded Sir  Baldwin. 

He  rang  the  bell,  and  Thompson,  the  solemn  major- 
domo,  opened  the  doors  for  the  party  to  file  out. 

"  We  shall  be  quite  comfortable  wherever  you  put 
us.  Sir  Baldwin,"  said  Aunt  Caroline  who  had  got 
Uncle  Jasper  by  the  arm,  and  was  forcibly  taking  him 
along.  "Are  you  coming,  Boadicea?"  she  added, 
turning  back  to  the  young  girl,  who  had  made  no 
movement  to  follow. 

Boadicea  was  deliberately  undoing  her  bonnet 
strings.  She  looked  frail  and  tired,  but  very  resolute. 
Olive  was  watching  her  with  ever-growing  apprehen- 
sion. The  inevitable  explanation  was  closer  at  hand 
than  she  had  imagined,  and  it  was  not  likely  to  prove 
an  easy  one  for  her. 

*'  I  think,  Aunt,  if  you  will  excuse  me,"  said  Boadi- 


286  MEADOWSWEET 

cea,  taking  off  her  bonnet  and  settling  down  on  a  cor- 
ner of  the  sofa,  "  I  would  rather  stay  with  Olive  for  a 
little  while.  Someone  no  doubt  will  later  on  pilot  me 
to  the  hotel  which  you  will  have  chosen,  once  Sir  Bald- 
win returns  and  tells  us  where  it  is." 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

A    LITTLE   FOOL 

Silence  reigned  in  the  large  elegantly-furnished 
drawing-room  of  the  stately  house  in  St.  James's- 
street.  The  party  from  Thanet  was  heard  descending 
the  stairs,  and  presently  entering  the  barouche  and  be- 
ing driven  away  in  the  direction  of  Piccadilly. 

Olive  was  at  the  window,  with  her  back  towards  her 
sister,  apparently  deeply  immersed  in  watching  Aunt 
Caroline  and  Uncle  Jasper  and  after  them  Sir  Baldwin 
—  finally  followed  by  Susan  —  getting  into  the  car- 
riage; but  in  reality  she  w^as  wondering  in  her  own 
mind  how  in  the  world  she  could  get  out  of  the  pres- 
ent extremely  uncomfortable  situation  without  too 
much  hurt  to  her  vanity  and  to  her  self-esteem. 

Boadicea  still  sat  on  the  corner  of  the  sofa,  very 
still,  with  her  hands  folded  in  her  lap  and  her  eyes 
fixed  upon  her  sister,  as  if  from  right  through  the 
back  of  Olive's  head  she  would  wish  to  extract  the 
solution  of  that  riddle  which  was  puzzling  her  own 
mind  so  painfully. 

The  silence  became  oppressive. 

With  a  forced  little  laugh  Olive  suddenly  turned 
and  faced  Boadicea. 

"Thank  goodness!"  she  said  lightly,  "they  have 
driven  off  at  last.  Some  of  that  eloquent  sermon  was, 
of  course,  meant  for  me.     Oh,  dear  me,  what  we  poor 

287 


288  MEADOWSWEET 

women  have  to  suffer  when  we  are  bound  for  Hfe 
to  a  veritable  walking  dictionaiy  of  whole-hearted 
abuse." 

She  yawned  affectedly,  and,  going  to  the  nearest, 
most  conveniently  placed  mirror,  she  readjusted  the 
curls  of  her  elaborate  chignon. 

"  Well,  child,"  she  said  after  awhile,  "  I  am  afraid 
that  you  have  not  chosen  the  most  pleasant  way  of 
spending  your  first  afternoon  in  London !  I  am  truly 
sorry,  but  I  cannot  possibly  entertain  you.  I  have 
promised  to  put  in  an  appearance  at  Lady  Malvern's 
concert  this  afternoon,  and  it  is  already  unconsciona- 
bly late.  I  must  go  and  put  on  my  hat  now.  Will 
you  wait  for  me  here  till  I  come  down  again  ?  " 

"  Don't  go  yet,  Olive,"  said  Boadicea,  with  a  wistful 
little  tone  of  entreaty.  "I  want  to  ask  you  some- 
thing." 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?  "  queried  Olive,  with  an  indif- 
ference which  she  was  very  far  from  feeling.  She 
was  wishing  with  all  her  might  that  some  one  or  other 
of  her  numerous  fashionable  friends  would  take  this 
opportunity  of  paying  her  an  afternoon  call  and  inter- 
rupt this  unpleasant  tcte-a-tete.  On  most  days  during 
the  season  her  drawing-room  was  filled  with  visitors 
who  were  not  always  welcome.  It  was  more  than 
provoking,  therefore,  that  just  to-day,  when  she  pined 
for  interruption,  she  should  be  left  so  severely  alone. 

Across  the  younger  girl's  smooth  forehead  there  had 
appeared  a  deep  frown  of  puzzlement. 

"  What  did  Sir  Baldwin  mean,"  she  asked,  "  about 
those  messages  which  he  says  I  sent  to  —  to  Lieuten- 
ant Carrington?  " 


A  LITTLE  FOOL  289 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't  know,  child,"  replied  Olive  im- 
patiently. "  How  should  I  ?  Sir  Baldwin  was  talk- 
ing at  random.  He  often  does  when  he  has  an  imagi- 
nary grievance  against  me." 

"  But  Sir  Baldwin  said  that  my  messages  were  sent 
in  my  letters  to  you." 

"  Well,  yes,  he  did  say  that.  I  tell  you,  child,  that 
he  was  talking  at  random." 

"Yes,  now!    But,  then?" 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  *  then  '  ?  " 

"  When  those  messages  were  delivered  to  Lieuten- 
ant Carrington:  was  someone  talking  at  random 
then?" 

"  Oh,"  said  Olive,  with  yet  a  greater  show  of  indif- 
ference, "  I  thought  that  surely  you  would  not  wish 
to  see  Lieutenant  Carrington." 

"Why  not?" 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  your  own  good  sense  ought  to 
tell  you  why  not.  I  should  have  imagined  that  you 
would  see  for  yourself  that  an  interview  could  not 
possibly  lead  to  anything,  but  would  only  be  painful  to 
you  both." 

"  An  interview  ?  Sir  Baldwin  did  say  something 
about  my  refusing  to  see  Lieutenant  Carrington.  Had 
he  asked  for  an  interview  then  ?  " 

"  Well,  he  did  say  something  about  it.  But  really, 
child,  I  haven't  got  the  time  to  waste  over  all  this  silly 
talk.     I  am  due  at  Lady  Malvern's  now." 

"  One  moment,  Olive.  I  won't  keep  you  long. 
You  have  just  told  me  that  Lieutenant  Carrington  said 
something  about  an  interview.     What  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  He  only  spoke  vaguely,  I  tell  you." 


290  MEADOWSWEET 

"  But  you  were  not  going  to  tell  me  anything  about 
it?" 

Olive  was  getting  nervous  and  fidgetty.  This  close 
questioning  under  her  younger  sister's  calm  gaze  had 
taken  all  her  self-assurance  from  her.  Yet,  strangely 
enough,  she  made  no  attempt  to  run  away.  Instinc- 
tively she  felt  that  the  situation  had  become  so  acute, 
and  Boadicea  so  determined,  that  to  evade  both  would 
only  mean  disaster  to  herself,  to  all  her  desires  and, 
above  all,  to  her  position  before  her  sister,  before 
Jack,  and  even  perhaps  before  her  husband. 

On  the  whole  she  thought  it  best  to  hold  her  ground 
now,  trusting  to  her  kind  ally  Chance,  and  to  her  own 
wits  to  lead  her  triumphantly  out  of  this  unpleasant  if 
temporary  cul-de-sac. 

"  You  took  it  upon  yourself  to  refuse  him  then  and 
there  in  my  name  ?  "  asked  Boadicea,  whose  voice  had 
suddenly  become  hard  and  trenchant  even  as  her  face 
became  more  calm  and  set.  "  You  took  it  upon  your- 
self without  consulting  me?  " 

"  I  thought  it  best,"  retorted  Olive  boldly,  "  so  did 
Sir  Baldwin  at  the  time.  He  was  present  when  Lieu- 
tenant Carrington  made  his  request,  and  we  both 
thought  ..." 

Boadicea  quickly  interrupted  her. 

"  His  request?  "  she  said.  "  He  did  request  an  in- 
terview then?  Just  now  you  said  that  he  merely 
spoke  vaguely  about  it." 

"  Tush,  child !  "  said  Olive,  with  angry  impatience. 
"  I'll  not  be  cross-examined  like  this !  The  whole 
thing  only  amounts  to  a  row  of  pins,  and  why  you 
should  make  such  a  fuss  now  and  behave  so  rudely  to 


A  LITTLE  FOOL  291 

me,  I  can't  think.  Lieutenant  Carrington  did  make 
the  suggestion  that  an  interview  between  him  and  you 
might  be  desirable  before  he  left  for  China.  Sir  Bald- 
win was  present  at  the  time,  as  I  told  you,  and 
so  .  .  ." 

"  And  so  you  told  a  lie,"  broke  in  Boadicea  calmly. 

"  Pshaw !  .  .  .  What  would  be  the  good  of  such  an 
interview?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  Lieutenant  Carrington  may  really 
be  puzzled  at  my  attitude  towards  him.  He  may  not 
have  understood  things  clearly,  and  may  have  wished 
for  an  explanation." 

"  What  nonsense,  child !  You  are  a  regular  country 
ninny!  Lieutenant  Carrington  knows  as  well  as  you 
and  I  the  real  cause  of  the  rupture  between  you." 

"  He  knows?  .  .  .  That  you  have  told  me?  .  .  ." 

"  Or  that  you  guessed  .  .  ." 

"  That  he  had  been  your  .  .  ." 

"  Why  .  .  .  yes.  .  .  ." 

"  One  does  not  guess  such  things  all  of  a  sudden. 
...  If  one  guessed  one  would  wish  to  make  sure." 

^  "  That's  just  it.  Lieutenant  Carrington,  I  think, 
only  wanted  to  assure  himself  that  you  were  not  quite 
sure." 

"Then  he  really  wished  for  that  interview?" 

"  Only  because  of  that,  I  think." 

"  And  was  he  disappointed  at  your  refusal  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  so." 

"  But  Sir  Baldwin  said  just  now  that  he  had  never 
seen  a  man  so  broken-hearted  and  so  altered  in  appear- 
ance as  was  Lieutenant  Carrington.  .  .  .  Why  do  you 
go  on  lying  to  me,  Olive  ?  " 


292  MEADOWSWEET 

"  Bah,  child !  "  retorted  Olive  in  uncontrolled  exas- 
peration. "  You  are  excited  and  very  impertinent.  I 
really  have  no  time  to  listen  to  all  this  nonsense.  I 
am  over  late  now  for  Lady  Malvern's  concert.  You 
have  really  been  too  provoking." 

"  I  am  sorry,  Olive,"  rejoined  the  young  girl  quietly. 
"  Do  go  and  put  on  your  hat  now.  I  won't  detain  you 
any  longer." 

"  Ah,  that's  better !  Really  you  have  been  very  ex- 
asperating, child,  keeping  me  here  all  this  while  with 
all  that  senseless  talk.  What  will  you  do  with  your- 
self while  I  am  gone?  " 

"  I'll  wait  for  Sir  Baldwin." 

"And  then?" 

"Ask  him  to  kindly  take  a  message  from  me  to 
Lieutenant  Carrington." 

"  A  message  ?     What  message  ?  " 

"  That  I  will  grant  him  the  interview  which  he  de- 
sires." 

"  Oh,  he  no  longer  desires  it !  " 

"  Perhaps  not.     But  I  do !  " 

"  My  dear  child !  You  cannot  ask  for  an  interview 
with  a  gentleman.  It  would  be  a  most  improper  thing 
to  do." 

"  Then  I'll  do  an  improper  thing." 

"  Listen  to  me,  child  .  .  ."  urged  Olive,  whose 
nervous  excitement  was  growing  with  every  new 
phase  of  her  sister's  sudden  determination. 

"  I'll  not  listen  to  you,  Olive,"  replied  Boadicea. 
"  I'll  wait  for  Sir  Baldwin.  You  go  and  get  your  hat 
on,  or  you'll  be  late  for  Lady  Malvern's  concert." 


A  LITTLE  FOOL  293 


(( 


But,  my  dear  child,  Sir  Baldwin  won't  be  able  to 
help  you." 

"Why  not?" 

"  He  does  not  know  where  Lieutenant  Carrington 
lodges.  ^  He  cannot  go  and  look  for  him  in  the  Lon- 
don streets." 

"  I'll  write  a  letter  to  Lieutenant  Carrington,  and 
Sir  Baldwin  will  give  it  to  him  when  next  he  sees 
him." 

"  Sir  Baldwin  is  not  the  proper  person  to  deliver  a 
young  girl's  letter  to  another  man." 

"  I  think  that  Sir  Baldwin  would  be  willing  for  once 
to  override  the  conventions." 

"  Moreover,  it's  too  late,  anyway.  Lieutenant  Car- 
rington leaves  London  to-night  and  England  to-mor- 


row." 


"  Then  my  letter  addressed  to  H.MS.  Dolphin  will 
reach  him  without  fail." 

"  Too  late  for  the  interview  which  you  seem  to  de- 
sire," cried  Olive,  with  a  mighty  effort  at  self-restraint. 

"  But  not  too  late  for  him  to  hear  the  truth,"  re- 
torted Boadicea  simply. 

"The  truth?     What  truth?" 

Boadicea  had  risen.  Looking  round  the  room  she 
saw  the  bureau  that  stood  at  one  angle,  with  blotter, 
pen  and  ink  and  sandbox  ready  to  hand.  She  walked 
quietly  up  to  the  bureau,  and  sat  down  in  front  of  it, 
Olive  watching  her  the  while  with  eyes  that  looked 
black  with  anger,  and  with  a  sense  of  impotence  and 
of  fear. 

Boadicea  opened  the  blotter,  found  paper  and  enve- 
lope, and  taking  up  a  pen  she  began  to  write. 


294  MEADOWSWEET 


(( 


Lieutenant  Carrington  may  be  killed  in  some  en- 
gagement," she  said  quietly,  even  whilst  the  sound  of 
her  pen  scraping  against  the  paper  set  every  one  of 
Olive's  nerves  tingling.  "  He  must  not  die  under  the 
misapprehension  that  I  do  not  know  the  truth." 

The  callousness  —  not  to  say  the  effrontery  of  this 
pronouncement  on  the  part  of  her  young,  unsophisti- 
cated sister,  struck  Olive  dumb  with  amazement.  She 
stood  there  in  the  middle  of  the  room  almost  like  a 
person  dazed  with  a  sudden  blow  on  the  head.  Her 
■wide-open  eyes  watched  as  if  fascinated  with  the  hor- 
ror of  it,  her  sister's  small,  sun-tanned  hand  running 
rapidly  from  left  to  right  of  the  sheet  of  notepaper  in 
front  of  her.  The  scraping  of  the  quill  pen  alone  dis- 
turbed the  silence  that  had  fallen  between  these  two 
women ;  outside  cabriolets  and  barouches  rattled  along 
the  stone  pavement,  street-criers  proclaimed  their 
wares :  "  Sweet  lavender !  Won't  you  buy  sweet 
lavender?"  or  "Knives  and  scissors  to  grind!"  or 


"  All  a-blowin'  and  a-growin'." 


People  went  about  on  their  business  or  their  pleas- 
ure, the  indifferent,  the  gay,  the  sad,  they  all  went  on 
just  the  same,  whilst  one  sister  in  her  innocence  was 
calmly  writing  the  condemnation  of  the  other. 

It  was  some  time  before  Olive  could  again  trust  her- 
self to  speak,  and  even  then  her  voice  sounded  harsh 
and  hollow,  as  if  her  throat  were  parched. 

And  by  that  time  the  letter  was  nearly  finished. 

"  Are  you  .  .  .  are  you  telling  Lieutenant  Carring- 
ton the  reason  why  you  broke  your  engagement  off 
with  him  ?  "  she  asked  at  last. 


A  LITTLE  FOOL  295 

"  Certainly !  "  replied  the  other,  without  looking  up 
from  her  writing. 

"  That  .  .  .  that  you  knew  that  his  relations  with 
me  .  .  .  had  not  been  quite  .  .  .  quite  innocent?" 

"Yes!" 

"  And  that  I  had  told  you  so?  " 

"  That  you  had  confessed  this  to  me.  Yes  ...  I 
am  telling  him  that." 

**  And  you  propose  to  entrust  a  letter  like  that  —  a 
letter  which  would  compromise  me  hopelessly  .  .  . 
you  propose  to  entrust  it  to  Sir  Baldwin  ?  "  stammered 
Olive,  who  now  was  forced  to  give  up  all  attempt  at 
concealing  her  own  agitation,  for  she  no  longer  could 
control  her  voice,  which  was  trembling,  or  her  blood, 
which  fled  from  her  cheeks  and  left  them  visibly  grey 
even  beneath  the  delicate  coating  of  rouge. 

"  It  is  monstrous  .  .  .  abominable  ..."  she  gasped 
and  incontinently  burst  into  tears. 

But  Boadicea  finished  her  letter  very  calmly.  She 
signed  her  name  boldly  and  with  an  elegant  flourish, 
then  she  addressed  the  envelope,  and  finally  strewed 
sand  over  the  wet  ink. 

"  Don't  disturb  yourself,  Olive  dear,"  she  said 
quietly,  and  —  her  sister  thought  —  very  callously. 
"  Sir  Baldwin  is  an  honourable  gentleman.  I  will 
close  and  seal  the  envelope  myself;  he  would  never 
think  of  tampering  with  a  closed  letter." 

"  Oh,  you  never  know  what  Sir  Baldwin  might  or 
might  not  do !  "  said  Olive  through  her  tears.  "  His 
jealousy  is  always  there ;  even  when  it  seems  quite  dor- 
mant the  merest  suspicion  calls  it  back  to  life." 

"  You  need  not  worry,  dear ;  I  have  so  worded  the 


296  MEADOWSWEET 

letter  that  no  one  but  Lieutenant  Carrington  himself 
could  read  your  name  between  the  lines." 

"  You  don't  know  Sir  Baldwin  as  I  do." 

Boadicea  was  even  now  folding  the  letter,  prepara- 
tory to  slipping  it  into  its  envelope.  She  paused  in 
the  act,  and,  rising  from  her  chair,  she  turned  quickly 
towards  her  sister. 

"  Would  you  like  to  see  the  letter?  "  she  asked. 

The  change  of  front  was  so  sudden,  the  suggestion 
so  unexpected  that  for  the  moment  Olive  was  quite 
thrown  off  her  balance.  The  blood  rushed  back  to  her 
cheeks.  She  was  alternately  pale  and  then  flushed, 
and  her  eyes  gave  a  quick  flash  of  eagerness. 

But  Lady  Jeffreys  was  essentially  a  woman  of  the 
world,  and  primarily  now  she  was  a  woman  fighting 
for  her  own  prestige  in  the  eyes  of  others,  and  for  the 
realisation  of  her  own  desires.  If  for  a  moment  she 
had  lost  control  over  herself,  it  was  only  because  every 
phase  of  this  extraordinary  interview  with  her  sister 
had  been  so  wholly  unexpected. 

Boadicea  within  the  last  quarter  of  an  hour  had  not 
only  been  a  totally  different  woman  to  the  ignorant 
tomboy  whom  Olive  had  known  so  superficially,  but 
she  had  been  many  women  in  turns.  She  had  been  a 
hard,  determined  woman,  with  a  cross-examining  legal 
mind ;  she  had  been  a  callous  one,  unresponsive  to  the 
feelings  of  her  sister,  of  the  man  whom  she  had  pre- 
tended to  love;  she  had  been  a  bold  woman,  too,  for 
she  had  done  a  thing  which  no  young  girl  with  any 
sense  of  shame  could  possibly  have  done  when  she 
wrote  what  she  called  "  the  truth  "  to  a  man  who  in  the 
future  would  remain  an  utter  stranger  to  her. 


A  LITTLE  FOOL  297 

But  now  equally  suddenly  the  unsophisticated  coun- 
try ninny  reappeared.  With  her  own  hands  she  was 
handing  over  to  her  sister  the  very  letter  which  Olive 
had  every  intention  should  never  reach  the  man  for 
whom  it  was  intended. 

No  wonder  that  for  a  second  or  two  the  clever 
woman  of  the  world  was  thrown  off  her  balance  by^ 
this  naive-  move.  But  she  recovered  herself  quickly 
enough,  and  made  no  movement  to  take  the  letter  from 
her  sister. 

"  Oh,  I'll  read  it  if  you  like !  "  she  said,  with  perfect 
indifference. 

"Just  as  you  like,"  rejoined  Boadicea,  not  a  whit 
less  self-possessed  or  less  indifferent.  "  It  is  no  secret 
from  you.  If  I  may,  I'll  just  run  up  to  your  room, 
and  put  on  my  bonnet  there,  in  front  of  your  glass. 
Perhaps  Sir  Baldwin  will  have  returned  by  the  time  I 
am  down  again." 

Olive  took  the  letter  from  her.  Truly  the  girl  was 
astonishing  —  astonishing  by  her  very  trustfulness, 
which,  in  Olive's  opinion,  was  not  far  removed  from 
idiocy.  She  picked  up  her  bonnet,  and  as  she  did  so 
she  was  humming  some  song  or  other  quietly  to  her- 
self. She  certainly  looked  a  little  flushed,  but  then 
she  had  been  very  pale  before,  and  the  argument  had 
been  lengthy  and  exciting. 

Olive  watched  her  almost  In  amazement,  whilst 
twirling  between  her  fingers  that  compromising  letter 
which  had  caused  her  so  much  agitation,  and  such  un- 
reasoning terror.  Boadicea  was  actually  leaving  It  in 
her  hands,  and  was  preparing  to  go  out  of  the  room 
with  her  bonnet  swinging  by  its  ribbon  on  her  arm. 


298  MEADOWSWEET 

"  I  think  I'll  take  a  peep  at  Cousin  Barnaby,"  she 
said  as  she  was  about  to  go.  "  Aunt  Caroline  will  be 
sure  to  worry  me  with  questions  about  him." 

"  Don't  be  long,  dear,"  said  Olive  calmly. 

"  I  shan't  be  ten  minutes.  I  must  just  take  the 
ink  off  my  fingers.  If  you  think  the  letter  is  all  right, 
will  you  close  it?     It  is  addressed." 

And  she  went  out  of  the  room. 

Olive  could  hear  her  running  upstairs  to  the  room 
immediately  overhead,  she  could  hear  her  open  and 
shut  the  door  of  that  room,  and  immediately  after- 
wards handling  ewer  and  basin  and  singing  all  the 
time. 

And  the  letter,  with  the  envelope  fully  addressed  was 
in  Olive's  hand.  She  took  it  out  of  the  envelope  and 
read  it  quickly  from  beginning  to  end. 

And  all  that  she  said  was : 

"  The  little  fool !    The  little  fool !  " 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

A    STROKE   OF   DIPLOMACY 

And  Olive  went  on  repeating  those  three  words: 
"The  little  fool!"  over  and  over  again  to  herself. 
Thus  to  express  her  contempt  of  Boadicea's  naive  con- 
duct seemed  to  ease  her  mind  and  to  calm  her  nerves. 
The  fact  that  the  young  girl  had  by  that  same  conduct 
really  played  Olive's  game  for  her  did  not  in  the  least 
mitigate  the  latter's  contempt. 

Thank  goodness,  that  silly  letter  need  never  reach 
Lieutenant  Jack  now.  Olive  was  twirling  and  turning 
it  between  her  fingers,  quite  enjoying  the  sudden  and 
unexpected  respite  from  the  terrible  anxiety  of  awhile 
ago. 

Overhead  she  could  hear  her  sister's  light  footstep 
moving  about  the  room,  and  her  voice  humming  one  of 
those  eternal  old  songs  of  which  she  was  so  fond. 

"  Little  fool ! "  murmured  Olive  once  more,  as  she 
folded  up  the  compromising  letter  and  thrust  it  into 
the  pocket  of  her  gown.  "  What  would  Jack  have 
thought  of  me,  if  he  had  read  this  impudent  epistle? 
.  .  .  For  an  unsophisticated  country  wench  I  must  say 
that  my  young  sister  puts  matters  very  clearly." 

To  have  lied  on  such  a  subject,  and  then  to  be  found 
out  in  the  lie,  would  have  been  an  humiliation  which 
Lady  Jeffreys  had  hardly  dared  to  contemplate. 

She  now  sat  down  at  the  bureau,  and  drew  pen  and 

299 


300  MEADOWSWEET 

paper  towards  her.  The  letter  which  she  meant  to 
write  needed  no  great  effort  in  composition.  It  should 
be  crisp  and  to  the  point. 

"  Miss  Aldmarshe  desires  to  inform  Lieutenant  Car- 
rington  that  she  has  no  desire  for  a  personal  interview 
with  him." 

There,  nothing  could  be  better!  Olive  contem- 
plated her  handiwork  with  supreme  satisfaction.  She 
had  not  even  taken  the  trouble  to  imitate  Boadicea's 
handwriting;  to  do  so  would  have  been  both  clumsy 
and  unnecessary.  All  being  well,  the  girl  would  with 
her  own  hands  give  the  letter  to  Sir  Baldwin,  who,  of 
course,  would  transmit  it  to  Lieutenant  Carrington  this 
very  evening. 

"  Boadicea  gave  me  this  letter  for  you ! "  Sir  Bald- 
win would  be  bound  to  say  that.  Olive  closing  her 
eyes  could  picture  the  whole  scene  as  it  would  be  en- 
acted presently.  Sir  Baldwin,  pompous  and  correct, 
handing  over  the  letter,  she  herself,  trying  to  look 
calmly  sympathetic,  whilst  Jack,  of  course,  would  be 
somewhat  disturbed  and  even  gloomy  after  he  had 
mastered  the  contents  of  the  curt  epistle. 

"She  gave  you  this  herself?"  he  would  probably 
insist.     "With  her  own  hands?" 

And,  of  course.  Sir  Baldwin  would  be  bound  to  an- 
swer "  Yes !  "  to  both  these  questions. 

It  really  was  all  too  delightful  and  almost  funny. 
Even  Olive's  somewhat  dormant  sense  of  humour 
woke  to  the  comical  side  of  the  situation.  And  she 
felt  no  genuine  sympathy  for  Jack. 

"  He  will  have  forgotten  her  in  three  months,"  she 
concluded  as  she   folded  up  the  missive,   slipped  it 


A  STROKE  OF  DIPLOMACY  301 

back  into  the  same  envelope  which  had  been  addressed 
by  Boadicea  and  finally  folded  and  fastened  the  whole 
thing  up  neatly. 

"  There's  no  reason  for  him  to  go  to  the  China  seas 
now."  And  instinctively  Olive's  fingers  went  up  to 
the  golden  curls  that  needed  slight  readjustment,  and 
her  eyes  wandered  to  the  nearest  mirror.  "  That  ap- 
pointment at  the  Admiralty  will  keep  him  in  London 
and  .  .  ." 

And  at  the  lady's  feet,  no  doubt.  That  would  be 
the  final  outcome  of  the  stormy  interview  which  had 
ended  so  satisfactorily. 

A  few  moments  later  Sir  Baldwin's  voice  was  heard 
down  in  the  hall.  A  thrill  of  pleasure  went  right 
through  Olive's  heart;  the  curtain  was  about  to  be 
raised  on  one  of  the  most  exciting  little  bits  of  drama 
that  she  had  ever  witnessed ;  and  the  charm  of  it  all  was 
that,  though  she  would  be  sitting  by  as  an  apparently 
indifferent  spectator,  she  would  really  be  the  chief 
actor,  the  chief  mover  in  the  scene;  the  other  two  — 
Sir  Baldwin  and  Boadicea  —  would  be  the  marion- 
ettes, she  —  Olive  Jeffreys  —  would  be  pulling  the 
strings  that  made  those  marionettes  dance  to  her  tune. 

Sir  Baldwin  came  straight  upstairs  to  the  drawing- 
room.  He  had  escorted  Aunt  Caroline  and  Uncle 
Jasper  to  a  nice  quiet  hotel  he  knew  of  in  Bloomsbury 
—  The  Coptic.  He  had  deposited  them  there  with 
Susan,  and  himself  had  returned  in  his  barouche, 
which  he  now  wished  to  place  at  Boadicea's  disposal, 
that  she  might  rejoin  her  uncle  and  aunt. 

"  It  is  almost  a  pity  that  the  child  is  not  going  to 
stop  in  the  house,"  he  said.     "  Curse  that  interfering 


302  MEADOWSWEET 

old  Crabtree!  She  must  come  back  here  to-night, 
though.  I  have  practically  arranged  that  Carrington 
should  be  here." 

"  She  has  written  to  Carrington."  Olive  was  quite 
calm  and  indifferent.  She  had  Boadicea's  letter  in  her 
hand  and  the  child  was  even  now  coming  downstairs. 

"Ah!     What  did  she  say?" 

"  Oh,  I  think  she  only  asks  for  a  few  hours'  time  in 
which  to  consider  her  decision.  She  probably  means 
to  grant  Lieutenant  Carrington  the  interview  which  he 
desires ;  but  I  wouldn't  worry  her  any  more  just  now, 
Baldwin,  if  I  were  you.  She  seems  to  have  written  a 
nice  letter  to  Jack  and  if  you  don't  interfere  I  have  no 
doubt  that  everything  will  be  for  the  best.  I  have  her 
letter  here;  she  shall  give  it  to  you  herself." 

Boadicea,  who  looked  her  best  just  now,  with  eyes 
very  bright  with  excitement,  and  curved  lips  quivering 
with  eagerness,  was  even  now  at  the  door. 

"  Here,  child,  come  in,"  said  Olive  lightly.  "  Sir 
Baldwin  thinks  he  may  be  seeing  Lieutenant  Carring- 
ton to-day.  He  can  take  your  letter  to  him,  if  you 
like." 

"  Yes,  Olive.     Have  you  read  my  letter?  " 

"  I  only  glanced  at  it."  And  Olive  was  handing  the 
letter  to  Sir  Baldwin,  who  was  about  to  take  it  from 
her  when  Boadicea  put  out  her  hand  and  quietly  took 
possession  of  it  herself. 

"  On  the  whole,"  she  said,  "  I  think  I  had  best  not 
send  this  letter.  H  Sir  Baldwin  will  be  seeing  Lieu- 
tenant Carrington  to-day,  he  may  as  well  take  a  verbal 
message." 

She  folded  the  envelope  in  half  and  slipped  it  into 


A  STROKE  OF  DIPLOMACY  303 

her  pocket.  Olive  thought  that  her  brain  must  be 
reeHng.  The  wahs  of  the  room  were  spinning  round 
and  round ;  her  throat  seemed  to  be  closing  up  so  that 
for  the  moment  she  could  not  draw  her  breath. 

Fortunately  Sir  Baldwin  was  not  looking  at  her. 
He  had  turned  to  Boadicea,  and  was  saying  with  his 
habitual  pompous  complacency : 

"  Of  course  a  much  wiser  plan,  my  dear;  or,  better 
still,  let  me  send  the  carriage  for  you  this  evening. 
Lieutenant  Carrington  will  be  here  then,  and  a  verbal 
message  will  come  far  better  from  your  own  lips  than 
from  mine." 

"  I  thank  you,  Sir  Baldwin !  "  said  Boadicea  de- 
murely. 

Olive,  had  she  dared,  would  have  gasped  with  hor- 
ror, she  would  have  raved,  she  would  have  protested. 
But  fortunately  for  herself  she  had  just  a  sufficiency 
of  commonsense  left  in  her  to  make  a  supreme  effort 
to  control  both  her  rage  and  her  fears. 

"  I  think  " —  and  she  contrived  to  speak  calmly,  so 
that  Boadicea  alone  saw  the  awful  effort  which  it  cost 
her  to  do  so  — "  I  think  that  it  would  be  better  for 
your  letter  to  go  first,  child." 

"  Do  you  really  think  so,  Olive  ?  "  asked  Boadicea. 

No  one,  I  think,  will  begrudge  her  this  tiny  pin-prick 
of  malice  which  she  administered  to  her  sister.  She 
was  but  a  girl  after  all,  and  was  holding  the  trump  card 
now.  Triumph  had  exhilarated  her,  and  it  was  she 
now  who  felt  contempt  for  her  sister,  and  who  could 
readily  have  murmured :     "  You  little  fool !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Olive,  catching  at  this  feeble  straw  of 
hope  — "  yes.     Let  Sir  Baldwin  take  your  letter  now. 


304  MEADOWSWEET 

You  can  then  easily  arrange  to  see  Lieutenant  Carring- 
ton  to-morrow." 

Boadicea  seemed  to  be  hesitating  for  a  moment, 
whilst  Sir  Baldwin  remained  coldly  neutral,  determined 
not  to  interfere  again  in  women's  affairs;  his  interfer- 
ence not  having  succeeded  overwell  hitherto.  Olive 
was  thus  kept  on  tenterhooks  for  a  few  minutes. 
Boadicea  was  not  cruel,  but  she  enjoyed  this  moment 
of  mental  torture  which  she  was  deliberately  inflicting 
on  her  sister.  And  even  then  Olive's  punishment  was 
in  no  way  commensurate  with  her  fault ;  and  the  worst 
of  it  for  Olive  was  that  she  knew  that  her  sister  was 
punishing  her,  and  that  she  had  not  the  power  of  re- 
taliation either  now  or  for  the  future. 

"  I  have  changed  my  mind !  "  Boadicea's  decision 
came  almost  as  a  relief ;  the  suspense  had  been  agonis- 
ing, even  the  worst  —  and  this  undoubtedly  was  the 
worst  that  could  happen  —  was  better  than  the  horror 
of  anticipation. 

"  That's  a  good  girl !  "  said  Sir  Baldwin  cheerfully. 
"  Now  I  think  I  had  better  drive  back  to  the  hotel  and 
tell  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hemingford  that  you  will  not  join 
them  until  this  evening.  You  stay  here  quietly  with 
Olive.  Have  a  good  talk  with  her;  she  seems  a  little 
nervy  this  afternoon." 

He  was  very  fussy  and  excited.  His  diplomacy  was 
succeeding  overwell,  after  all.  Olive  made  no  at- 
tempt to  stop  him  from  going ;  events  had  come  to  such 
a  pass  that  it  did  not  greatly  matter  now  who  came  or 
stayed,  what  anybody  did  or  did  not  do. 

And  once  more  the  two  sisters  were  left  alone  to- 
gether. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

A    SUBLIME    CONCLUSION 

Olive  no  longer  made  attempt  to  hide  either  her 
wrath  or  her  fears.  As  soon  as  Sir  Baldwin  was 
safely  out  of  earshot  her  piercing  voice  rang  out,  shrill 
and  quivering. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this  nonsense?"  she 
cried. 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  look  of  rage,  nor  even 
that  of  hate  with  which  she  met  Boadicea's  quiet 
glance. 

"  It  means  that  I  have  been  seeking  for  the  truth," 
And  Boadicea  took  the  letter  out  of  her  pocket  and 
held  it  tightly  clasped  between  her  hands.  *'  It  lies 
here,"  she  said,  "  in  this  letter." 

"  What  do  you  mean?     Give  me  that  letter." 

"  Yes.  I  will  give  it  you,  Olive,  directly.  I  need 
not  read  it  now." 

She  sat  down  on  the  corner  of  the  sofa,  just  as  she 
had  done  before,  when  some  hidden  power  in  her  sug- 
gested this  stroke  of  diplomacy  v^^hich  had  culminated 
in  the  present  situation.  The  letter  she  still  clutched 
with  both  her  hands.  Her  cheeks  were  glowing  with 
suppressed  excitement,  her  large,  eager  eyes  followed 
her  sister's  restless  walk  up  and  down  the  room. 

"  I  need  not  read  this  letter,  Olive,"  she  said.  "  I 
can  read  all  I  want  in  your  disturbed  face  and  in  your 

305 


3o6  MEADOWSWEET 

shrinking  eyes.  You  lied  to  me,  Olive.  You  lied 
when  you  tried  to  part  me  from  the  man  whom  I  loved, 
and  who  loved  me.  .  .  .  You  lied  when  you  tried  to 
prove  him  false  and  base,  a  liar  and  a  cheat.  .  .  .  You 
trapped  and  duped  me  —  me,  your  own  sister  —  the 
country  wench  whom  you  used  as  a  tool  for  just  as 
long  as  you  needed  her,  and  whose  heart  you  broke 
once  she  herself  became  useless." 

"  Be  quiet,  girl !  "  cried  Olive,  in  a  last  futile  attempt 
to  gain  the  mastery  over  the  silly  wench  whom  she 
used  to  dominate  long  ago.  "  I  will  not  listen  to  all 
this  nonsense,  this  impudence.  .  .  ." 

"  You  must  listen,  Olive,"  broke  in  Boadicea  firmly ; 
"  you  have  got  to  listen,  for  it  is  my  turn  now.  You 
have  had  the  upper  hand  for  so  long,  for  you  are  clever 
and  you  always  know  what  you  want,  and  what  you 
want  that  you  make  up  your  mind  to  get.  But  God 
gave  me  country  wits,  not  much  of  these,  I  dare  say. 
You  think  me  a  ninny  and  an  unsophisticated  savage, 
but  I  have  pitted  my  wits  against  your  intrigues,  and  it 
seems  that  my  wits  were  the  keener.  I  wished  to 
know  who  —  you  or  he  —  had  lied  to  me.  You  or 
he!  The  alternative  was  horrible,  for  I  loved  you, 
Olive,  and  believed  in  you ;  but  to  him  I  had  given  my 
whole  heart.  Do  you  think  that  I  really  meant  to 
send  a  letter  to  him?  Not  I  ...  I  only  wanted  to 
know,  and  it  was  my  turn  to  lay  a  trap  for  you  and 
to  make  a  fool  of  you.  .  .  .  Yes,  a  fool  —  a  miser- 
able, cringing  fool;  and  see  how  I  succeeded!  Your 
excitement,  your  terror,  the  many  purposeless  little 
lies  which  you  had  already  told,  had  roused  my  sus- 
picions —  and  somehow  I  thought  of  writing  the  letter 


A  SUBLIME  CONCLUSION  307 

and  then  of  leaving  it  —  open  —  in  your  hands  to  see 
what  you  would  do.  I  never  meant  to  give  the  letter 
to  Sir  Baldwin.  I  had  only  thought  out  a  way  of 
finding  out  whether  Jack  Carrington  had  been  lying  to 
me  last  year,  or  whether  you  were  lying  to  me  now. 
Now  you  see  that  country  wits  are  sometimes  keener 
than  town  wits.  You  fell  into  my  trap  just  like  a 
bird.  When  my  back  was  turned  you  stole  my  letter. 
You  were  terror-stricken  lest  he  —  the  man  whose  ad- 
miration you  covet  for  the  mere  gratification  of  your 
own  vanity  —  should  know  how  you  had  lied  to  me, 
and  shamed  yourself  before  me  so  as  to  part  me  from 
him.  You  stole  my  letter,  Olive,  and  in  its  place  you 
wrote  another  —  another  —  with  your  hand.  I  don't 
know  what  you  wrote.  ...  I  don't  care  how  you  put 
it  .  .  .  but  this  I  know  that  in  this  envelope  now  lies 
the  proof  of  your  falsehood  and  of  his  loyalty." 

It  was  a  severe  ordeal  for  a  young  girl,  this  act  of 
accusation,  spoken  with  a  great  effort  at  self-control 
and  at  dignity.  Nor,  whilst  she  was  actually  speaking, 
did  that  self-control  and  dignity  forsake  her.  Her 
voice  perhaps  had  gradually  become  a  little  more 
trenchant  as  excitement  took  stronger  and  yet  stronger 
hold  of  her.  She  had  risen  to  her  feet,  and  it  was 
Olive  now  who  sat  cowering  and  weeping,  unable  to 
find  the  requisite  words  with  which  to  silence  her  sis- 
ter's indictment  against  her. 

But  when  Boadicea  had  finished  speaking,  when 
with  every  moment  the  conviction  grew  upon  her  that 
she  had  not  been  mistaken,  that  her  sister  had  lied, 
deliberately  lied  to  her,  but  that  the  man  whom  she 
loved  had  been  loyal  and  very  deeply  wronged,  then 


3o8  MEADOWSWEET 

for  an  instant  her  self-control  entirely  left  her.  She 
was  only  a  young  girl,  after  all  —  little  more  than 
a  child,  with  a  heart  filled  with  passionate  love  for  a 
man  whom  for  a  whole  year  she  had  believed  a  liar 
and  a  cheat. 

The  load  of  intense  misery,  of  bitter  disillusionment 
which  she  had  borne  silently  for  so  long  was  lifted 
from  her  with  amazing  suddenness,  and  she  who  had 
never  given  way  under  the  weight  of  so  much  sor- 
row, and  such  cruel  disappointment,  did  so  now  with 
the  completeness  of  her  relief. 

Her  voice  broke  down  in  a  great  sob.  Hot  tears 
rushed  to  her  eyes.  She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands 
and  crying  and  laughing  hysterically  she  fell  on  her 
knees  beside  the  sofa  and  murmured  through  her 
tears : 

"  I  knew  it.  ...  I  really  knew  it  all  the  time.  .  .  . 
Oh,  my  God,  my  God!  I  thank  thee!  I  thank  thee 
that  he  has  not  lied  to  me !  " 

That  was  the  great  hosanna,  the  heavenly  paeon  of 
gratitude  that  went  up  from  her  overburdened  heart, 
straight  to  God  the  Maker  of  all  things  good.  He 
had  not  lied  —  he  was  true  and  loyal,  for  this  she 
thanked  God  on  her  knees.  Nothing  else  mattered 
now,  not  the  pain  and  misery  of  the  past  year,  not  the 
sister's  treachery,  not  even  the  hopeless  dreariness  of 
future  years!  All  that  was  as  nothing,  for  he  was 
just  as  she  had  thought  him,  true  and  loyal.  The 
sky  once  more  was  beautiful  and  blue,  the  clouds  but 
filmy  gossamer  of  silver  tissue,  the  nightingale  had 
an  exquisite  note  in  its  tiny  throat,  and  the  scent  of 
cherry  blossom  was  exquisite  in  its  fragrance. 


A  SUBLIME  CONCLUSION  309 

"  Thank  God,  thank  God,  he  did  not  lie  to  me !  " 

This  mood  of  Boadicea's  was  wholly  incomprehen- 
sible to  the  older  sister,  so  incomprehensible,  in  fact, 
that  it  irritated  her.  She  ceased  her  own  crying,  the 
tears  of  shame  and  of  rage  died  in  her  eyes,  even  be- 
fore they  fell.  At  first  she  gazed  on  her  sister  as  she 
would  on  a  person  who  had  suddenly  become  demented. 
She  wiped  her  eyes  and  sat  straight  up  in  her  chair. 
Then  contempt  —  that  innate  contempt  which  she  had 
always  felt  for  the  country-bred  ninny  —  once  more 
reasserted  itself. 

Bah!  the  child  was,  after  all,  nothing  but  a  fool,  and 
she  —  Olive  —  had  been  but  a  silly  dolt,  thus  to  allow 
herself  to  be  cowed  by  a  wench  like  that.  The  child 
was  a  fool,  of  that  there  was  no  doubt,  else  why  should 
she  now  seem  so  overwhelmed  with  joy  when  in  reality 
there  was  nothing  yet  to  exult  over.  Nay,  what's 
more,  Olive  would  —  even  at  this  eleventh  hour  —  see 
that  nothing  should  occur  to  justify  tears  of  gratitude 
and  of  joy. 

She  was  not  one  to  take  a  beating  easily,  and  did  not 
by  any  means  consider  herself  beaten  yet.  Check  to 
her  queen  —  perhaps  —  her  queen  who  was  called  self- 
love  —  but  not  checkmate  by  a  long  way  yet. 

But  she  waited  patiently  until  Boadicea's  paroxysm 
had  somewhat  calmed  down.  At  last  the  girl  rose  to 
her  feet  again,  and  still  a  little  hysterical,  still  quiver- 
ing with  excitement,  she  was  drying  her  tears,  and 
making  quick,  jerky  attempts  to  smooth  the  tendrils  of 
brown  hair  that  clung,  moist,  to  her  temples. 

By  this  time  Olive  had  wholly  composed  herself. 
She  was  well-schooled  in  the  art  of  passing  from  parox- 


3IO  MEADOWSWEET 

ysm  of  tears  or  anger  to  apparent  complete  indiffer- 
ence. She  embraced  her  sister's  elegant  young  figure 
with  one  contemptuous  and  comprehensive  glance,  then 
she  said  lightly : 

"  My  dear  child,  let  me  congratulate  you !  Your 
heroics  are  positively  wonderful !  " 

This  sobered  Boadicea  completely.  She  was  not 
really  ashamed  of  her  outburst  before  the  sister  who 
was  so  uncomprehending  and  so  profoundly  cynical, 
but  she  was  angry  with  herself  for  having  allowed  that 
sister  a  peep  into  her  simple,  ardent  soul.  Her  young 
face,  tanned  by  sun  and  sea,  beaten  by  the  breezes  of 
Thanet,  had  not  learnt  the  art  of  concealing  the  strong 
emotions  which  surged  up  from  the  depths  of  her  pas- 
sionate and  unsophisticated  heart. 

Olive  —  had  she  been  more  keenly  observant  — 
could  easily  have  read  in  her  sister's  glowing  eyes  every 
thought  that  coursed  through  the  young  brain.  But 
she  cared  so  little  what  that  sister  thought  and  felt  that 
now  she  merely  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  said  flip- 
pantly : 

"  Well,  I  admit  that  I  have  lied.  What,  then  ?  I 
admit  that  I  was  fond  of  Jack  Carrington.  I  am  fond 
of  Jack  Carrington,  and  he  is  fond  of  me.  He  may 
have  paid  you  some  attention  which  your  silly  childish 
vanity  construed  into  declarations  of  love,  but  he  was 
and  is  fond  of  me.  I  lied  in  order  to  keep  you  away 
from  him.  What  then?  I  admit  it.  There!  You 
can  call  me  a  liar,  and  despise  me  as  much  as  you  like. 
But  all  your  weeping  will  not  bring  him  back  to  you 
now.     I'll  see  to  that." 

Boadicea  listened  to  Olive's  cynical  tirade  with  a 


A  SUBLIME  CONCLUSION  311 

smile  on  her  lips,  and  a  look  of  supreme  joy  on  her 
face.  Neither  joy  nor  smile  fled  from  her  when  Olive 
ceased  speaking. 

"  But  he  did  not  lie  to  me,"  she  said  simply. 

"  To-morrow  he  leaves  in  the  Dolphin  for  China, 
You  cannot  stay  in  my  house  against  my  wish.  You 
must  go  now,  for  I  shall  send  you  away,  and  you  will 
not  have  the  chance  of  seeing  Lieutenant  Carrington 
before  he  leaves." 

Still  smiling  and  triumphant,  Boadicea  repeated: 

"  But  he  did  not  lie  to  me !  " 

"  Bah !  You  may  never  see  him  again.  He  may 
never  return  from  China." 

And  once  again  came  the  sublime,  all-embracing  an- 
swer:    "  But  he  did  not  lie  to  me! " 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

A     SIMPLE    WAY 

After  awhile  Olive  left  her  to  herself.  There  was 
nothing  to  be  done  with  the  girl.  I  think  that  for  the 
first  time  in  all  these  months  of  many  and  of  varied 
intrigues  she  felt  herself  on  the  verge  of  being  check- 
mated. 

But  she  could  no  longer  remain  in  the  presence  of 
her  sister.  That  optimistic  exultation  irritated  her  be- 
yond her  powers  of  endurance.  She  still  clung  to  the 
hope  that  Carrington  and  Boadicea  need  not  meet  this 
evening,  and  to  the  determination  that  Jack  now  should 
follow  his  original  intention  and  leave  for  China  the 
next  day. 

At  any  rate,  she  had  a  good  many  hours  during 
which  she  could  think  things  out. 

Sir  Baldwin  had  gone  to  Bloomsbury.  At  the 
quickest  computation  he  could  not  go  there  and  back 
and  have  a  brief  talk  with  Aunt  Caroline  under  about 
an  hour.  No  one  could  have  a  brief  talk  with  Aunt 
Caroline,  for  she  saw  to  it  that  it  was  anything  but 
brief,  so  that  in  all  probability  Sir  Baldwin  would  be 
gone  over  an  hour,  and  he  had  left  the  house  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  ago. 

If  Boadicea  left  St.  James's-street  in  half  an  hour 
from  now  in  a  hackney  coach  which  moved  very  slowly 
indeed  she'  would  be  well  out  of  the  way  before  Sir 

312 


A  SIMPLE  WAY  313 

Baldwin  could  possibly  return,  and  would  reach  the 
Bloomsbury  hotel  some  time  after  Sir  Baldwin  had 
left  it. 

And  surely  whilst  Lady  Jeffreys  in  the  meanwhile 
sat  listening  to  Lady  Malvern's  musicians  she  could 
think  out  some  little  scheme  whereby  she  could  keep 
Sir  Baldwin  from  interfering  this  evening  when  Lieu- 
tenant Carrington  paid  his  promised  visit. 

Carrington  would  be  in  St.  James' s-street  this  even- 
ing, Boadicea  at  the  Bloomsbury  hotel,  and  that  Fate 
would  be  a  very  malignant  one  indeed  that  did  not 
keep  those  two  young  people  apart  for  another  twenty- 
four  hours.  As  Olive  had  harshly  intimated  to  her 
sister,  the  latter  could  not  possibly  remain  in  the  house 
when  the  hostess  had  bade  her  go. 

After  to-night  Lieutenant  Jack  could  start  for  China 
and  Boadicea  for  Thanet,  leaving  Lady  Jeffreys's  repu- 
tation still  immaculate  in  Jack's  eyes,  even  if  it  had 
been  irretrievably  sullied  in  those  of  her  sister. 

Twenty- four  hours !  Surely  Fate  was  not  going  to 
deal  cruelly  with  the  prettiest  woman  in  London  at  this 
important  crisis  in  her  life? 

A  little  buoyed  up  by  hope  again,  a  little  fearful, 
and  very  irate  against  her  sister,  Olive  made  up  her 
mind  that  by  far  the  best  and  simplest  thing  to  do  now 
would  be,  firstly,  to  order  Thompson  to  call  a  hackney 
coach  for  Miss  Aldmarshe  in  half  an  hour,  and  to 
direct  the  driver  to  take  the  young  lady  quietly  as  far 
as  the  Coptic  Hotel  in  Bloomsbury,  and  after  that  for 
herself  to  endeavour  to  forget  her  w'orries  in  the  social 
triumphs  which  awaited  her  at  Lady  Malvern's  re- 
ception. 


314  MEADOWSWEET 

Therefore  she  tried  resohitely  to  conquer  that  In- 
tense sense  of  irritation  which  was  in  her  still,  and 
which  might  even  now  have  betrayed  to  Boadicea  the 
fact  that  her  sister's  intriguing  mind  was  once  more  in 
activity. 

Resolutely  she  went  to  the  door  as  if  by  her  de- 
parture she  meant  to  imply  that  she  was  vacating  the 
battlefield  and  leaving  Boadicea  there  alone  and  tri- 
umphant. At  the  door,  however,  she  turned  to  her 
sister  and  spoke  to  her  acidly  over  her  shoulder : 

"  You  will  understand,  child,"  she  said,  "  that  your 
presence  in  my  house  can  no  longer  be  very  agreeable 
to  me.  I  will  instruct  Thompson  to  call  a  hackney 
coach  for  you.  It  may  be  some  time  before  he  can 
get  one,  but  when  he  does,  he  will  instruct  the  driver 
to  take  you  straight  to  the  Bloomsbury  hotel,  where 
Aunt  and  Uncle  must  be  getting  anxious  about  you. 
You  have  the  address,  I  think." 

"  Yes,  Olive,"  replied  Boadicea,  "  I  have  the  address 
Sir  Baldwin  mentioned  —  the  name  of  the  hotel,  the 
Coptic,  wasn't  it  ?  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  coachman 
can  find  it." 

**  Of  course  he  can.  Good-bye,  then!  I  may  bring 
myself  to  go  and  see  you  again  before  you  leave,  for 
Aunt's  sake,  of  course.  She  need  not  know  how  im- 
pertinently you  have  treated  me,  and  how  angry  I  am 
with  you  for  your  rough,  bullying  ways.  Outwardly 
we  can  yet  remain  friends." 

"  Yes.     Outwardly,  Olive." 

"  I  must  go  now.  Your  impertinence  and  all  the 
nonsense  that  you  have  talked  have  made  me  miss  one 
of  the  finest  concerts  of  the  season." 


A  SIMPLE  WAY  315 


(( 


I  am  sorry!  " 

"  And  I  cannot  help  thinking,  child,  that  your  pri- 
mary object  in  making  all  this  fuss  was  to  make  mis- 
chief between  Sir  Baldwin  and  me." 

"  I  don't  think,  Olive,  that  you  will  seriously  believe 
that  when  you  have  thought  the  whole  matter  over 
seriously." 

"  I  may  or  I  may  not.     Good-bye  now !  " 

"Good-bye,  Olive!" 

The  door  was  opened  and  shut  again.  There  was  a 
frou-frou  of  silk  skirts  and  a  tripping  of  lightly  shod 
feet  up  the  carpeted  stairs;  and  one  sister  passed  en- 
tirely out  of  the  life  of  the  other. 

For  a  second  or  two  Boadicea  was  conscious  of  the 
irresistible  impulse  to  run  to  the  door  to  call  after  the 
sister  whom  she  had  once  loved  so  dearly,  whom  even 
now  she  was  willing,  even  eager  to  forgive.  But  she 
fought  that  impulse  down.  Nothing  at  this  moment 
could  be  gained  by  making  appeal  to  Olive's  finer  feel- 


ings. 


With  a  sigh  Boadicea  was  bound  to  admit  that  Olive 
had  very  few  fine  feelings  in  her.  But  what  did  that 
matter?  What  did  anything  matter  since  he  had 
proved  himself  loyal  and  true. 

Even  if  he  went  to  China  to-morrow,  even  if  she 
should  never  see  him  again  in  life,  she  would  never 
again  be  so  hopelessly  wretched  as  she  had  been  in  the 
past  year.  Death  —  his  death  —  the  most  terrible 
thing  now  that  her  mind  was  able  to  contemplate, 
would  not  seem  such  a  cruel  thing,  since  she  knew  that 
he  was  true  and  loyal,  and  that  he  had  not  lied  to  her. 

As  —  a  year  ago  —  she  had  sat  alone  in  her  little 


3i6  MEADOWSWEET 

room  at  Old  Manor  Farm  gazing  on  the  very  abject- 
ness  of  her  own  misery,  so  now  she  gazed  upon  that 
one  great  and  glorious  fact;  he  had  not  lied;  he  was 
true  and  loyal.  All  her  belief  in  him  was  justified. 
The  one  terrestrial  idol  which  her  virgin  heart  had 
set  up  had  not  fallen  to  ashes  and  dust  at  her  feet,  and 
her  lips  had  never  been  defiled  by  the  kiss  of  a  traitor. 

On  this  she  dwelt,  on  this  her  heart  fed  now,  as 
probably  it  might  have  to  feed  for  many  years  to  come : 
just  on  the  memory  of  that  kiss,  in  the  shadow  of  the 
big  cherry-tree  when  the  thrush  sang  so  exultantly: 
"  He  did  it!  He  did  it!  "  and  when  the  scent  of  to- 
bacco flowers,  pungent  and  intoxicating,  filled  the  air 
with  its  exquisite  fragrance. 

She  heard  her  sister's  footsteps  once  more  descend- 
ing the  stairs,  she  heard  the  harsh,  high-pitched  voice 
ordering  a  hackney  coach  to  be  brought  to  the  door  in 
half  an  hour.  She  heard  the  heavy  front  door  opening 
and  shutting  as  the  fashionable  Lady  Jeffreys  sallied 
forth  into  the  streets  to  walk  the  few  hundred  steps 
which  would  lead  her  to  Lady  Malvern's  mansion. 

Then  she  felt  the  silence  of  the  big  house.  She  sat 
in  the  drawing-room,  quite  still,  waiting  for  the  hack- 
ney coach  to  arrive  which  would  take  her  away  from 
her  sister's  house,  probably  never  to  return. 

Olive  had  passed  out  of  her  life,  so  no  doubt  would 
Sir  Baldwin.  To-morrow  she  thought  that  she  could 
persuade  Aunt  and  Uncle  to  go  back  to  dear  old 
Thanet,  where  there  were  no  intrigues,  no  lies,  no  false 
appearance  of  affection,  no  lying  lips,  but  where  mem- 
ory dwelt  under  the  cherry-trees,  and  was  kept  sweet 
and  young  in  the  fragrance  of  spring  flowers. 


A  SIMPLE  WAY  317 

She  was  content  thus  to  sit  quietly,  to  dream  and  to 
wait.  OHve  had  apparently  ordered  the  coach  to 
be  brought  round  in  half  an  hour.  She  wondered  — 
in  the  same  vague  and  dreamy  way  —  why  Olive 
should  have  wished  her  to  wait  half  an  hour  before 
leaving.  But  it  really  did  not  matter.  When  thoughts 
are  so  full  and  the  soul  so  far  away  from  the  body, 
time  is  of  little  account,  and  the  small  details  of  life  do 
not  really  exist, 

A  coach  eventually  did  drive  up  to  the  door.  Boadi- 
cea  heard  it  and  made  ready  to  go.  She  felt  more 
than  ever  like  a  person  in  a  dream,  only  vaguely  realis- 
ing that  she  must  adjust  her  bonnet,  tie  its  strings  and 
slip  on  her  gloves.  Equally  vaguely  the  thought 
crossed  her  mind  as  to  what  would  become  of  Cousin 
Barnaby. 

"  Olive  will  turn  him  out  of  the  house  to-morrow 
for  certain.  She  is  not  in  a  mood  to  care  about  Mr. 
Crabtree's  tantrums."  And  she  smiled  in  an  absent, 
dreamy  kind  of  way,  as  she  pictured  to  herself  Bar- 
naby Crabtree  being  hastily  and  unceremoniously  bun- 
dled out  of  the  house. 

She  thought  every  minute  that  Thompson  would 
come  in  and  tell  her  that  the  hackney  coach  was  at  the 
door,  and  she  was,  in  the  meanwhile,  struggling  with  a 
recalcitrant  glove. 

Presently  she  heard  Sir  Baldwin's  voice  down  be- 
low. He  had  evidently  returned  once  again  from 
Bloomsbury.  His  coachman  must  have  driven  very 
quickly,  for  Boadicea  had  an  idea  that  Bloomsbury  was 
a  very  long  way  off. 

Still,  she  was  glad  that  Sir  Baldwin  had  returned, 


3i8  MEADOWSWEET 

and  that  she  would  be  able  to  say  "  Good-bye  "  to  him 
before  she  left.  Sir  Baldwin  had  been  very  kind  all 
along,  and  even  the  severity  of  his  judgment  on  her 
was  due  to  the  kindness  of  his  heart. 

A  man's  footsteps  were  heard  ascending  the  stairs 
very  quickly.  It  was  Sir  Baldwin,  of  course;  and  the 
coach  was  at  the  door,  and  she  must  really  go  now. 

Then  the  door  was  thrown  open,  and  it  was  not  Sir 
Baldwin  who  was  standing  there. 

At  first  Boadicea  thought  that  it  was  all  part  of  her 
dream,  because  she  was  quite  sure  that  in  the  back- 
ground behind  Jack's  head  she  could  see  the  old  cherry- 
tree  and  the  sunshine  glinting  through  the  fruit-laden 
branches ;  she  was  equally  sure  that  she  could  smell  the 
delicious  fragrance  of  those  tobacco  plants  which  were 
planted  in  the  shade  over  against  the  north  side  of  Old 
Manor  Farm,  whilst  nobody  could  doubt  that  the  very 
air  was  vibrating  with  the  song  of  innumerable 
thrushes  who  repeated  the  glorious'  pseon  of  joy: 
''He  did  it!     He  did  it!" 

But,  of  course,  all  that  was  nonsense,  and  Boadicea 
laughed  aloud  at  herself  for  being  so  silly  and  so  fan- 
ciful. Did  she  not  know  that  she  was  in  a  London 
house,  in  her  sister's  drawing-room,  very  far  away 
from  the  old  orchard  in  Thanet  ? 

But  she  also  was  in  the  arms  of  the  man  whom  she 
loved,  of  the  man  who  throughout  had  been  true  and 
loyal.  It  was  his  kiss  that  was  as  sweet  as  the  scent 
of  the  flowers;  it  was  his  voice  that  murmured  in  her 


ear: 


My  Meadowsweet !  " 

I  wonder  if  you  will  ever  understand?  "  she  whis- 


A  SIMPLE  WAY  319 

pered  shyly.     "  It  was  all  such  a  hideous,  such  a  horri- 
ble mistake.     But  it  was  all  my  fault,  and  I  shall  never 
be  able  to  explain.     I  wonder  if  you  will  forgive  and 
never  try  to  understand  ?  " 
"  I  wonder?  "  he  said  simply. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  Sir  Baldwin  ventured  to 
disturb  them.  He  sighed  a  little  wistfully  when  he 
saw  them  sitting  side  by  side,  hand  against  hand,  and, 
unseen  by  him,  soul  to  soul. 

"  I  did  not  go  to  the  hotel  after  all,"  he  said  in  ex- 
planation of  his  sudden  return.  "  I  went  to  fetch  Car- 
rington  at  his  lodgings,  which  were  close  by.  I 
thought  it  would  be  the  simplest  way  out  of  our  many 
difficulties." 

And  it  had  been  by  far  the  simplest  way. 


THE    END 


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